Tempus Fugit
by EmperorDoofenshmirtz
Summary: What began as a time travelling adventure for Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, Baljeet and Buford quickly becomes a struggle for survival, and a desperate quest to return home.
1. Don't Panic

**Hello, once again. Not much to say here except that this is not a direct sequel to The Smile Away Reformatory Town, but it is in the same continuity, if you will - there are a couple of references to the events of that story, but you don't really need to go read it.**

* * *

"Beat ya again, alarm clock!" Phineas' cheerful voice rang out.

Ferb groaned, and pulled the covers over his head. Almost three hours sleep, he thought. Phineas is getting lazy. His covers suddenly rushed inward, and prodded him in the eye. He groaned again – Phineas was already dressed and ready to go.

"Ferb? Ferb! Good morning, Ferb! Wake up sleepy head!"

The Fletcher boy resisted the urge to leap out of bed and strangle his brother, but he was sure this came under the heading of 'Not Socially Acceptable'. Besides, he thought, I don't have enough energy for that. Instead, he lowered the covers and peered into the bright light.

Phineas was jumping up and down impatiently; clutching a drawing pad and twitching like an ignored puppy. With another groan, Ferb rolled out of bed and landed painfully on the wooden floor. Phineas' head loomed into view, slowly raising the pad for Ferb to see.

"I already know what we're going to do today!"

A hand shot out from the prone child, snatching the drawing from Phineas' hand. Phineas waited while Ferb scanned the sketches critically.

"Well?"

Ferb nodded and smiled lightly, getting to his feet. Phineas grinned and hurried his brother out of the room, before realising that Ferb would look rather odd building while wearing Batman pyjamas.

"I'm going for breakfast – hurry up!"

Phineas was gone almost instantly, enthusiastically bolting down the stairs. Ferb could hear everyone else in the house sigh and rise, knowing that if Phineas was awake, everyone had to be awake. He glanced at the sketch once more, and reached for the drawer. His hand travelled past two watches ticking in synchrony, the compact Platy-Posterior, and for some reason, a stale block of cheese before he found what he was looking for – his archive drawings of the Sunbeater 3000.

* * *

Gretchen pushed her glasses back up her nose as she added the last details onto the new security system. Her eyes were strained from days of working, but she was almost finished. Adyson rolled past lazily on a chair, doing her best to make the bespectacled girl lose her temper.

"Whatcha doin?"

"You know what I'm doing – embarking on a defence system excelling in repelling those who would antagonise us."

Adyson grinned and burped loudly. The stench of half-digested curry filled Gretchen's nostrils – her companion had been eating non-stop since she arrived.

"One day, your metabolism will fail and you will suffer the consequences…" Gretchen stopped to push her glasses back into their correct position.

"Someone's grouchy. At home to Mister Tetchy, are we?"

Gretchen muttered inaudibly and pushed back on her chair, rolling over to the new steel door that protected the clubhouse and its secrets.

"You know," said Adyson, pulling a paperclip from her pocket and twisting it, "I don't think Suzy's gonna try to break in here again. There's no point in all these precautions."

"What the chief says, I obey."

Adyson pointed at the numerous computer screens.

"But do we really need all of these cameras pointed at graves? It's not like any of them are going to rise up!"

"Be prepared," Gretchen said diplomatically, fixing a circuit.

"Oh, by the way, someone managed to carve 'aheheh' into the wall with their fingernails. Might want to paint over that."

A knock on the door caused both girls to stand upright. A password was uttered, fingerprints were scanned and facial recognition software was applied before the door hissed open, and Isabella entered the clubhouse, whistling at the new technology. She turned to look at the door.

"All this might be a bit much," she mused, and Gretchen looked offended.

"Chief, it's state-of-the-art! It is completely psychopath-proof!"

"What, evidence of psychopathy?" Adyson said, raising an eyebrow.

"No! It's psychopath retardant!"

Adyson snorted with laughter. "What was that word?"

Isabella ignored the usual bickering and checked her watch. She was disappointed that she would be missing a day of 'Big Ideas' for Fireside Girl duties, but there was a lot to be done. A tap on the shoulder turned her around. Adyson was directly behind her, holding a paperclip. Isabella sighed.

"Alright, show me," she muttered, annoyed by Adyson's typical boasting.

Adyson casually flicked the paperclip backwards, spearing an unfortunate fly and pinning it to a dart board that shuddered violently at the impact. Isabella whistled again.

"And you doubted I could do it."

"I didn't doubt you, I doubted Ferb's recollection of events."

Isabella reached into a desk drawer and tossed her subordinate an Improbable Aiming Skills patch. She ran through some files, flicking through and barely reading them – there was little point in being here, she thought. Phineas and Ferb probably had something better planned. But, then again, she had promised Gretchen that she would be present. She raised her head suddenly.

"Someone's outside."

Gretchen smiled confidently.

"Then they shall witness the power of this fully operational security system."

"How long have you been waiting to say that?"

"Years."

There was a muffled discussion occurring on the other side of the door. Upon hearing the robotic voice asking for a password, the voices stopped. Gretchen wrung her hands together eagerly – the clubhouse was impenetrable. Footsteps sounded as the intruders began to walk away, defeated.

"See, chief?" Gretchen said, turning to her friends. "Completely…"

"Buford… PUNCH!"

The window shattered with ease, and Isabella wondered if Buford was aware that it was made of plastic. A strange shape blocked the window, and it took a while for the girls to realise that it was Baljeet sitting on Buford's shoulders. Isabella glanced at Gretchen, who was twitching uncontrollably, and walked over to the window.

"Guys… what are you doing?"

"We came to ask you if you're goin' to Phineas and Ferb's … thing," Buford said slowly. "Pyramid Head said it doesn't matter if you're busy, 'cause we'll be back the second we leave."

Isabella blinked several times before Baljeet came to the rescue.

"What my simian friend is trying to say is that we are embarking on an expedition involving time travel, and we will return approximately the same time we depart."

Isabella thought about this for roughly half a second before she vaulted over the windowsill and out onto the grass.

"Sold!" she said excitedly, and headed off with the pair without a second glance.

Adyson sank back into her chair, swivelling lazily.

"You know the hearts she gets in her eyes when Phineas gets mentioned? I think that's a form of epilepsy. … Come on, that was funny!"

Gretchen did not reply, still standing at her security system with a blank look on her face.

"Aw, come on, it's not the end of the world! Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad, other things just make you swear and curse…"

* * *

Candace swore angrily as she rounded the corner to discover once again that the kitchen was no longer there. The house had been rearranged following its repair, and Candace was not one to appreciate change. She wheeled herself backwards and turned to face the garden, opening the screen doors with a little difficulty. Shouting at her brothers would cheer her up.

The wheelchair bumped clumsily over the small rise, and slowed considerably on the grass. Two more weeks, she thought to herself. Just two more. Phineas was standing by the tree, among numerous pieces of what looked like a plane. He waved.

"Hey, Candace!" he shouted. "We're going time travelling again, do you wanna come with?"

Candace had a sudden vision of herself being chased by angry cavemen, and shook her head rapidly.

"No, never again. It never ends well."

"We've decided not to go into the future – lot of strange things happened last time. We're really just sightseeing. Think about it – the Flavian Amphitheatre in its prime!"

"I said no," Candace grunted. "And what's more, when Mom sees this you are going down! Down, down, down!"

Candace felt that her dramatic exit was ruined slightly by the fact that her wheelchair was stuck in a small depression in the grass. Phineas stood patiently.

"Need a hand?"

"Just hurry up."

Phineas pushed the wheelchair out of the dip, and Candace was off like a shot, speeding her way down the driveway and shrieking 'Mom!' at the top of her voice. The swinging gate was stopped as Isabella, Baljeet and Buford strolled into the yard, completely unfazed by Candace's actions.

"Hey Phineas, whatcha doin?"

Phineas turned round, confused.

"Didn't Baljeet and Buford already tell you?"

"Well… yeah, but its tradition…" Isabella said, blushing sheepishly.

"Ferb's going to fetch the time machine and fix it up a little before he brings it over here," Phineas explained, gesturing to the various bits of machinery scattered across the garden. He stopped suddenly, and pulled a small container from his pocket. "You'll need these, by the way."

Isabella peered into the jar, looking curiously at the three fish that swam in circles, opening and closing their mouths stupidly.

"What are they?"

"Babel fish," Phineas said cheerfully. "I got them from Meap. They work as a universal translator – much more efficient than having to wear a moustache all the time."

"Do we eat 'em?" Buford said, stomach rumbling.

"Nah," said Phineas, handing the struggling creatures to his companions.

"Oh, thank goodness," said Baljeet, ceasing to hyperventilate. "That would be most unhygienic."

"You put them in your ear," Phineas concluded.

Everyone looked disgusted, but Isabella figured Phineas had a good reason for saying so, and obeyed. The creature felt disgusting and slimy, but as soon as she followed Phineas' advice, the struggling stopped. She touched her ear gingerly. There was no trace of the creature.

"Son, now I can translate foreign languages?" she asked.

"Foreign, alien, anything. Oh, here comes Ferb."

A chorus of whooshing noises rang out, and the time machine began to fade in to the backyard, flashing noisily. Ferb sat at the lever, and nodded towards his friends. The time machine was far different to how the children remembered it – Ferb's tinkering had left it looking much more developed and safe. The chariot-like shape remained, but various screens and control panels were present, presumably to make the machine more stable. Phineas, Buford and Isabella applauded politely, but Baljeet was still grappling with the babel fish.

"Did you pack everything Ferb?" Phineas asked, hopping into the time machine.

Ferb nodded, and Phineas turned to is friends.

"Although we'll be back just after we leave, we don't know how long we'll spend in the past. It's an adventure!"

"What are all the adjustments for?" Baljeet asked, slapping his ear in annoyance.

"Previously the machine stayed in the same geographical position when we travelled in time," Ferb said.

"So this let's us go anywhere in time now?" Baljeet said, to be met with a nod. He hopped into the time machine enthusiastically. "Okay, I'm in. Just think of the potential!"

"Ferb," Phineas said with a smile. "Why did you pack the Iliad? Why would we need this?"

Ferb shrugged.

"Alright, then, we'll keep it. Isabella, Buford, are you coming?"

Buford was still processing Phineas' earlier information, blinking slowly. Eventually he spoke.

"Only if Buford gets to meet Voltaire," he grunted, and clambered into the machine, nearly crushing Baljeet in the process.

"Isabella?" Phineas asked, holding out his hand.

The Fireside Girl leader shrugged and took Phineas' hand with a smile, stepping into the machine and taking her seat beside him. Phineas was grinning in anticipation, as always, for his next big adventure. Ferb signalled with several thumbs up as he checked the engines, evidently happy with his work.

"Where to first?" Buford asked.

Ferb's fingers were already dancing over various keys.

"The Renaissance, I think. Phineas – the lever."

"Off we go!" Phineas exclaimed, and pulled back on the lever.

* * *

The final touches were being administered to the great machine. The scientist held the strange purple crystal tightly, tensely awaiting his work's completion. Several henchmen struggled to put the last panel into place, and quickly cleared what could only be described as a landing pad. In the dark, a huge creature growled and paced behind the scientist, who ignored it completely. The scientist was only snapped out of his trance by a touch on the shoulder, and he turned to look at his friend.

"It's finally over," he said. "After all this time. After all of these dead ends. After all the death."

His companion nodded and helped him to his feet. The scientist had aged rather well, but his legs were not as strong as they once were, and he stumbled every few steps, holding onto his helper. The henchmen stood in the dark, faces obscured and anonymous, waiting as their leader struggled onto the landing pad, face lit up by the purple glow of the crystal. Stepping away from his assistant with thanks, the scientist stepped forward, standing proudly before his minions.

"Gentlemen," he announced, voice as strong as ever. "Thank you. Our most sincere thanks for everything you have done for us. After Xavier Onassis' disappearance, along with his time travelling device, I feared our cause was lost. He even burned his papers and plans. But one survived!"

He held up the purple crystal, which flashed, almost in response. The scientist placed the crystal inside a small bulb, which crackled with unimaginable power.

"The key to time travel! Onassis' machine is powered by an identical device. But this crystal is twinned with his, by a powerful magnetism. They are drawn to each other. We may not be able to build a time machine, but then I say we shall take it. With force if necessary!"

The crowd roared in response, and the scientist pulled a switch. Four mechanical claws emerged from the landing pad, joined by a metallic sphere that lay open.

"Time…" muttered the scientist to himself. He felt himself shiver violently, and he placed his device into the sphere.

The machine crackled all around them, shaking the room, smoke beginning to emanate from the various gears and cogs. What seemed to be lightning raced through several points, converging on the central sphere. With a groan and a crack, something began to come into view. The scientist leaned forward excitedly.

"THERE IT IS!" he screamed, pointing as the time machine came into view.

Five children struggled inside the machine, and the scientist stepped back in surprise, as the figures faded in and out of reality. A cyclone of energy continued to swirl around, and the scientist heard voices over the din.

"Ferb, something's wrong!"

One of the shapes was moving frantically, pressing numerous switches, and shielding its eyes from the storm of the time vortex. The scientist realised that they could not see him.

"Phineas, pull the lever!"

The scientist's eyes widened and he rushed forward.

"They're getting away! Stop them!"

His assistant grabbed hold of his lab coat and pulled him backwards as a sharp explosion snapped out from the machine, blowing the two men off their feet. They landed painfully, gasping for air as the smoke began to clear. The scientist looked up at his creation.

The time machine was gone.

He screamed and leapt to his feet, yelling uncontrollably, striking his assistant. His lashing out was stopped instantly as the man rose to his feet, and grabbed the scientist's hand.

"Listen to me," said the assistant. "It's only temporary. We'll amplify the signal. There's still hope."

* * *

There was a loud bang and the time vortex disappeared, to be replaced by a cold, marble surrounding. Ferb was launched backwards, and landed with a grunt on the hard floor. Phineas checked his companions.

"Everyone okay?" At the various confused nods, he looked at his brother. "What happened?"

Ferb picked himself up and walked cautiously to the back of the time machine, carefully removing the backing. The wiring and engine sparked dangerously – operational, but extremely unstable. The rest of the group hopped out of the time machine to investigate.

"We'll need to repair this," sighed Phineas.

"Where are we?" Isabella wondered, glancing around.

"We're on a boat," Buford said, as if it was obvious.

"No we're not," Baljeet replied, rubbing his temples. "It's a palace, look around you!"

"Actually," said Isabella, "I think you're both right. This palace is floating."

Ferb looked up, finally noticing his surroundings.

"The Nemi ships," he grunted.

"Well, we are here to explore," Phineas said, shrugging. "We could always solve this problem lat…"

A sword was pointed at his throat. He gulped nervously, and the children turned to see the new arrivals. Several Praetorians surrounded them, magnificent Roman armour glinting in the sunlight.

"Um… take us to your leader?" Baljeet said hopefully.

"I think you'll regret that when you meet him," said the officer grimly.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! A couple of things to say here. This story is rather episodic, but as you can see, there is an overarching storyline. The babel fish is from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - originally they just used a generic translator, but I liked the reference. I should note here the time periods I shall NOT be visiting: The Wild West (because Comment person's story covers that area - you should read it, by the way) and WWII, because I've seen where fics like that go, and it ain't pretty. As for the Romans, big thanks to the high lord of terra for helping me out on that (obviously, you'll see more next chapter). Where liberties are taken with history, I shall point them out. The crystal device that powers the time machine is the same one that causes Candace so much trouble in 'It's About Time!'. Anyway, see you.**


	2. I, Phineas

**Hello again, and thanks for all the reading and reviewing! Big thanks to the high lord of terra for helping in regards to the Romans.**

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* * *

**

"I have a question," Isabella whispered as the Praetorians guided them through a marble hall. "If these are Romans, why am I hearing British accents?"

"I have a theory," Baljeet said, keeping his head low. "Romans are commonly depicted with British accents in the media, and so I expect the translator has picked up on this. Am I right, Phineas?"

Phineas shrugged good-naturedly. He had no idea, but he assumed Baljeet was correct, as he often was.

"Aw, it stinks in here!" Buford complained, and the captain of the guard slapped him across the back of the head.

"Quiet!" hissed the man. "It would not be wise to anger him."

The group continued through the darkening marble halls, as natural light was gradually replaced with burning torches, and the smell of rotting flesh grew ever stronger. Phineas turned his head to the lead guard.

"What's your name?" he asked happily.

"Cassius. Cassius Balea," the Praetorian said nervously, as if it might incur the wrath of someone nearby.

"You kind of look like Baljeet," mused Isabella, which was met with nods from Buford and Ferb. "Perhaps you're related!"

Balea shrugged and kept walking. To his annoyance, the red-headed boy fell into step with him, eagerly asking questions.

"How was this place built?"

"I only assisted with schematics. Any queries should be relayed to Claudius or Phineas the Greek."

"I'm assuming you have emergency fun preservers?"

"Please be quiet."

"Where are we going?"

Balea slapped his palm against his forehead several times.

"For the last time," he said with exasperation. "As my supposed illegitimate son or whatever here has asked, we are taking you to our leader."

"We're here sir," grunted one of the guards.

The children paused to observe their surroundings – the hall had opened up into a huge space, decorated with detailed golden statues of various deities. The fire from torches glinted on the idols, faded slightly due to the rays of sunshine that shot through from gaps near the roof, which was a considerable height. A great mountain of blood-stained stone steps led up to the most detailed statue of all – the god Jove stood posed heroically, as if calling the lightning. Phineas whistled.

"Impressive. We'll be seeing a liquorice dispenser next."

Ferb snorted in agreement. A strange thudding noise was emanating from behind the steps, and all of the guards stood to attention as it drew closer. Eventually a man limped into view, carrying several muddled scrolls, and twitching uncomfortably. He shook fading green hair from his eyes, the sudden movement causing him to drop the scrolls. Instinctively, everyone except Buford ran forward to help him. The man nodded his thanks as he was handed back the numerous works.

"T-thank you," he stuttered, compulsively twitching again. "He'd be furious if I l-lost them."

The man's eyes suddenly widened as he recognised the ages of the children in front of him. Panic flooded his features as he turned to the Praetorians.

"What did you bring them here for?" he cried, one free arm waving wildly. "They're only c-children!"

Balea shrugged, and looked at the floor. Phineas smiled obliviously.

"Hi – I'm Phineas, this is Ferb, that's Isabella, Baljeet and Buford. We're not from here."

"Ferbius c-Claudius… c-Charmed, I'm sure, but we need to get you out of here before…"

"Aheheh," said the statue of Jove, and everything went downhill from there. "Before what, Uncle Claudius?"

The statue hopped lightly from the podium, disposing of the lightning prop and removing the fake beard. A red-haired wig was removed, revealing a balding head punctuated by thin blonde hair. The young man almost danced down the steps, grinning wildly, as Claudius and the Praetorians paled considerably. The young man landed on the marble floor with a bare-footed slap, and lowered himself to Phineas' eye-level. Phineas found himself staring into the blackest, emptiest eyes he had ever seen. Behind him, he felt Isabella grab at his t-shirt for some kind of security.

"Ew…" said the man. "They're not supposed to be catamites, are they? Far too young – I'm not Tiberius you know…"

"We're visiting," said Buford, unfazed by the man's sudden arrival. "Who are you anyway?"

The blonde man straightened himself up, frowning.

"I am Jove, god over mortals. To mortals themselves, I am your Emperor – Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus…"

"Caligula!" Baljeet said, pleased that he could identify the man.

Caligula's face contorted in anger, and he moved as if to strike the boy, but seemed to think better of it, and moved back to Phineas.

"Aheheh… I think you ought to control your little Egyptian slave, boy. He is quick to speak."

"He's not my slave," Phineas said, retaining his cheerful demeanour to the amazement of everyone. Despite his joyful appearance though, Phineas was currently thinking that Caligula, by all modern reckoning, was horribly insane. Of course, by modern reckoning, Caligula might have enjoyed a successful career as a dentist.

"You have a strange accent," Caligula muttered. "Are you from the Jewish provinces?"

The group shook their heads.

"We're from far away," said Phineas, aware that Isabella was tightening her grip on his shirt.

"Aheheh. Did you meet any Jewish assassins on the way?"

"Uh, no, not that I'm aware."

"Did Neptune speak to you?"

The only reaction Phineas had was to raise an eyebrow – quite uncharacteristic of him, but he was confused. He scratched his ear.

"No…"

"Hurm," said Caligula, stroking his chin. "He may be defeated then. The Jewish assassins, however…"

"Jove," spoke Balea, stepping forward. "You have nothing to fear from those women. Any attack made by them against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they have obtained."

Caligula straightened up, frowning.

"Do not underestimate the power of the gods. They may be conspiring with Neptune. Get out of my sight, Balea."

"Very well," said Balea, sighing with relief. "What is the secret phrase for tonight's guard?"

Caligula thought for a moment, a sadistic smirk crossing his features.

"The pass-phrase is, aheheh, 'a quick fondle before bedtime'. Run along now, crybaby."

Balea groaned and trudged away, with the resigned demeanor of a man who was going to have to approach a burly German guard and ask for a quick fondle. The previous night, the secret guard phrase had been 'I have recently known your mother and father, and I believe I was better than you'. That had ended with a black-eye for Balea, and he suspected he would receive another tonight. Caligula continued to chuckle maliciously as the Praetorians filed out of the temple, until Phineas drew his attention.

"If you're the emperor, why are you here at Nemi? And why, if I might ask, have you built this… floating palace?"

Caligula sat down on the steps, smirking.

"It's a symbol of my conquest over Neptune."

Baljeet summoned the courage to speak again.

"The sea god?"

"Oh, you're not as stupid as you look after all," said Caligula, nodding enthusiastically. "Neptune angered me, but I have tamed him, and now my almighty fortress sits upon his kingdom… But, Phaeton, you evade my questions. Who are you?"

"Like I said – Phineas, Fer…"

"Not that, you triangular twit! Did you meet with a Jewish girl – pretty, dark hair?"

Phineas scratched his ear and turned to the rest of the group.

"Well, there's Isabella, but she was with us the whole time… Why is so important?"

Isabella would have blushed and perhaps fainted, if the circumstances had been somewhat more ideal. Instead, she was staring into familiar cold, black eyes and she felt horribly ill. Caligula watched her suspiciously, while continuing to address Phineas.

"A band of Jewish women have taken to harassing me. I have no idea why – I am the Messiah the Jewish scriptures prophesized. Aheheh. I fear they have simply become mad in my presence. I put a statue of myself in their temple – can you believe they didn't have one?"

"That's sacrile…" Isabella began instinctively, but caught herself.

Unfortunately, Caligula had already heard her. Claudius stumbled forward in some attempt to stop his nephew, but Caligula was much faster, and had his dagger at Isabella's throat in an instant. Baljeet and Buford staggered backwards in surprise, while Phineas and Ferb turned to the madman, seeking some sort of forgiveness.

"Let her go!" Phineas cried, genuine panic flooding into his voice for once.

Isabella kept her head tilted back, feeling the absurdly sharp blade nicking at her flesh. Amazingly, she kept calm. Caligula glanced at the red-haired boy waving his arms at him.

"I'm afraid your little bride-to-be has blasphemed…"

"Let her go!"

"And the punishment for blasphemy is…"

"LET HER GO!" screamed Phineas, and everyone jumped.

Caligula growled lowly, drawing back the dagger in preparation for a swift hack. His eyes bored into Phineas'.

"Why, son of Peleus," the emperor recited slowly, "Do you, who are but man, give chase to me who am immortal? Have you not yet found out that it is a god whom you pursue so furiously?"

Tears were beginning to flash in Phineas' eyes. Buford and Baljeet slowly shielded themselves from the oncoming sight. Claudius had already begun to sob. Ferb,, however, suddenly stepped forward, eyes flashing with recognition.

"You have baulked me, Far-Darter, most malicious of all gods," said the green-haired boy clearly. Caligula and Claudius seemed taken aback by his accent, but stayed silent. "And have drawn me away from the wall, where many another man would have bitten the dust ere he got within Ilius…"

A slow smile spread across the emperor's face.

"Aheheh. Complete it, and I'll let her go."

A bead of sweat traversed Ferb's forehead, and he trembled slightly as he struggled to remember.

"You have robbed me of great glory and have saved the Trojans at no risk to yourself, for you have nothing to fear… but…"

"Finish it," growled Caligula.

"But…I would indeed have my revenge if it were in my power to do so," Ferb finished, sighing slightly.

Isabella dropped to the ground upon her release, coughing and spluttering. Caligula nonchalantly stepped over her, returning to his seat on the steps, patting Phineas on the shoulder as he did so.

"Lucky for you that your slaves are so educated. Aheheh," he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "That slave's like a better version of you, Claudius!"

"T-thank you, j-Jove."

Phineas put Isabella's arm over his shoulder and helped her to her feet. Isabella felt that this was entirely unnecessary, but she was not about to refuse this small comfort. Phineas' heart rate was slowing down, and he kept close to his friend, relieved.

"Emperor," he said eventually, managing to smile. "May we take our leave?"

Caligula smiled, nodding.

"Of course, Phaeton. Back from whence you came."

"Thank you," sighed Phineas, and the group turned to leave.

Phineas' blood ran cold as the voice bounced off of the temple walls.

"But the girl and the slave stay here."

Phineas whirled around, a rare expression of hopelessness on his features.

"But…"

"Only as insurance. I know you arrived in some sort of chariot, so we'll wait while you fetch it. After all, you might still be assassins."

"Oh yeah?" Buford snarled. "Well we need insurance too. Give us pretzel man over there!"

Caligula shrugged as he saw Buford pointing at Claudius.

"You can have him for free. Hurry up now. Aheheh."

Phineas, Baljeet, Buford and Claudius slowly returned along the darkening corridor, all fearing for the safety of those they left behind. Caligula continued to smile, lazily turning his head to look at Ferb.

"What's the future like?"

Ferb and Isabella were unable to hide their shock.

"How can you…" Isabella exclaimed, but Caligula cut her off with a wave of his hand.

Reaching into the folds of his toga, the emperor drew a glowing purple crystal, strange lights crackling within. The crystal was cracked down the middle, and was slightly duller than the one powering the time machine.

"I knew you were coming," said Caligula, grinning. "I was given this by the previous emperor. Apparently, it's how the oracles can tell the future. One night I cracked it open. I saw… the most brilliant lights and images… I saw all of you, moving towards me… an old man in his castle… a man flanked by dogs… a deaf man making music… a monstrous family, a man on the hunt… The most wonderful things…constantly drumming…"

"Could you make sense of it?" Isabella asked, rubbing the slight cut on her neck.

"Of course. Aheheh. I saw the end of time itself – only a god could survive that. I awoke from my mere mortal shell and ascended, and the Roman people worshiped me." Caligula paused, and then on whim, said, "You annoy me, little girl. I think I shall call one of the senators to dispose of you. INCITATUS!"

* * *

As soon as they were out of sight, Phineas noted a change in Claudius – the limping and twitching were still present, but they were much less severe than he previously thought. He noted this for further reference. Outside, the sun was still beating down, and the time machine sat undisturbed. Buford and Baljeet instantly ran forward and leapt to safety, eager to get out of the nightmare they found themselves in. Phineas pressed a remote he drew from his pocket and the time machine jumped up as small wheels emerged from its base. Moving round to the back, he began to push the device back along the marble. He stopped as he saw that Claudius was talking to someone.

A group of armed women had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and their leader was currently engaged in a conversation with Claudius.

"…say nothing about any children!" the leader was saying.

"T-they'll get out," said Claudius, glancing towards Phineas. "We know no-one will die. That's how we got the Greek's help."

The leader nodded, calmed slightly by the mention of the name.

"Okay, fine. The devices have been planted; they go when the hourglasses run out. I'm going to go scare our mutual friend a little. Are you heading back inside?"

Claudius snorted with laughter.

"I have d-difficulty swimming as it is. I'm going to the other barges. G-good luck."

With that, Claudius limped away, towards the edge of the palace, where a long line of barges floated, serving as a bridge back to the mainland. The man gave a quick wave, and then hopped down, smiling slightly.

Phineas shrugged and, checking Baljeet and Buford were still seated, continued to push the time machine, eventually approaching the dark corridor. He noted that the women had disappeared.

"I hope that's anything I should be worried about," he said, to no-one in particular.

* * *

Isabella heard the stomping of feet as her executioner drew closer. She closed her eyes as she heard him enter the room, quietly listening to her own heartbeat. She heard Caligula laughing childishly.

Ferb suddenly laughed as well.

Isabella opened her eyes and sighed with relief. Incitatus was a horse – a very bored and confused looking horse, who wore an awkwardly place laurel wreath on his head. With the manners typical of a horse, he began chewing Isabella's bow. She giggled and patted the 'senator' friendlily. Caligula was roaring with laughter, and was in danger of collapsing onto the floor.

Suddenly all of the torches went out, extinguishing simultaneously. The natural light still shone through the sudden gloom. Ferb and Isabella shot up, but Caligula remained calm.

"They're here…" he said in a sing-song voice.

"Gaius!" A female voice cried, possibly coming from the roof. "This is your last non-violent warning. Take down that statue!"

"It was a gift, you ungrateful bint," the emperor said lazily. "You blaspheme against your own Messiah."

There was a sigh, and the woman spoke again.

"Have it your way then."

The palace shook tremendously, the sound of huge objects hammering into the hull of the ship ripping through the palace. Caligula stumbled to his feet, suddenly gazing around wildly.

"They're gonna sink us!" cried Isabella, and grabbed Ferb. "Time to go!"

The two began running, but Caligula crossed the room with amazing speed, blocking their exit. He seemed more occupied with the collapsing surroundings, but he addressed Ferb rapidly, handing him a sheathed dagger.

"Aheheh. Slave boy, here, take this. You need it at one point. But, yes, time for you to leave, Achilles, Artemis."

Caligula moved out of their way, and ran over to Incitatus, leaping onto the senator's back. The horse gave a splutter of protest.

"Come on, Incitatus!" yelled the emperor. "EXIT STAGE LEFT!"

Like lightning, the horse shot out of the temple, galloping away and out of sight. The sound of wheels skidding rapidly came down the hall, and soon enough, the time machine came into view.

"GET IN!" Buford shouted. "The whole place is coming down!"

Phineas ran round from the back and helped Isabella into the machine, while Ferb vaulted in with little effort. Scrambling in, Phineas cried over to his brother.

"Ferb, pull the lever!"

The time machine began to fade in and out of view as the palace roof suddenly came loose, and hurtled down towards them. The tons of marble crashed down with incomparable force, but the time machine was already gone.

Caligula stood on one of the smaller barges with Incitatus and Claudius, watching his beloved palace being devoured by Neptune. He sighed, and turned to Claudius.

"We may have to remove that statue…"

"Really?" said Claudius, disguising his sarcasm.

"Yes, sadly… Oh, did you see the little Phaeton with Artemis? I'm shipping those two from now on Claudius. Aheheh. Do you think he's only pretending to be oblivious? Can someone pretend to be stupid for so long?"

"I d-don't know sir. Some people are r-rather good at it."

Balea pulled himself out of the water, and leaned on one of the emperor's German bodyguards, catching his breath. Remembering his order, he addressed the guard.

"A quick fondle before bedtime," he said, still catching his breath.

Everyone laughed as the ensuing punch knocked Balea back into the water with a comic squeal and splash.

* * *

**Caligula was assassinated in 41AD, by Cassius Chaerea, who is here obviously replaced with an ancestor of Baljeet's. The Nemi ships were probably sunk around then, but as terra pointed out, o-one knows, so it woud be crazy not to sink them. Additionally, the temple on the Nemi ships was to the Egyptian god Isis - chaged to Jove here for simplicity's sake. For anyone who doesn't know, Ferbius Claudius (real name Tiberius Claudius) is the next emperor - not bad for a supposed , the Fireside Girl-style group that appears are entirely fictional, as is Phineas the Greek. About 50% of Caligula's dialogue is some sort of reference to something - the other 50% is Getting Crap Past the Radar. I think this is the first time anyone has ever used the Illiad as a Chekov's Gun. Next chapter is much lighter, by the way - I felt they needed an ominous start. So thanks for reading, and see you next time! Oh, and apologies to any offended dentists.**


	3. The Third Kid

**Hello again! Just a quick note here - do not be alarmed by the first-person narrative during this chapter. The suck is entirely intentional. Enjoy!**

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* * *

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The time vortex was one of those things that was impossible to get used to, Isabella mused. The constant flash of colours and images from times gone by were convoluted and confusing. She was sure that images relating to her own life were playing, but the images went by so fast she only caught snippets of dialogue. By the unusual silence from her companions, she assumed they were experiencing similar confusion.

"…damn baby's a girl…"

"I'm Phineas! I'm new…"

"Ferb's an introvert, don't disturb his methods…"

"Your father… can't be with you anymore…"

"I'm just as confused as you are, Xion…"

"Going underground again…Isabella, in case we don't make it…"

"Chief, he's just nervous. He'll notice one day."

"ISABELLA!" Buford yelled, and she shot back into reality, blinking.

It was pitch black, the only indication of whereabouts being the slow, methodical crash of waves and the occasional cry of a seagull. Creaking noises suggested that they were moving, but that was all Isabella could gather. The others shuffled about in the dark.

"Pull the lever," sighed Baljeet. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Whoa, wait," Phineas' voice chirped in the blackness. "We came to have adventure, and adventure we shall have. Whatever's up with the time machine just makes it more… spontaneous."

Buford's stomach rumbled loudly, and Isabella scrambled around in the tiny luggage compartment, pulling out a torch. Everyone shut their eyes against the sudden burst of light, opening them slowly again to view their surroundings. They were in a shipping crate, slowly rotating and moving, likely to some type of port. Numerous boxes were piled up against the sides, while in the centre sat a small suitcase, ominously humming.

"Nice preparation, Isabella," Phineas said, stepping out of the machine and glancing around. "We should hang around here, just to see where all this is headed."

"Buford hungry."

"There's food in one of the containers I packed," said Isabella, wondering if she had been the only one to prepare for a trip. Ferb had packed a multitude of items, none of which seemed particularly useful.

Phineas prodded the suitcase with his toe, and when nothing happened, he crouched down and moved his fingers over the combination.

"How do you know what the combination will be?" Baljeet asked, head appearing over the rim of the machine.

"I don't," admitted Phineas. "But ominous people who pack ominous suitcases usually can't resist an ominous combination."

Sure enough, when the three sixes were in place, the latch on the case clicked open. Phineas opened it cautiously, and a purple glow began to flood the shipping crate, providing much more light than Isabella's torch. Ferb and Isabella looked at each other, remembering their last sighting of the strange crystals.

"That can't be a coincidence," Isabella said wisely, and Ferb nodded in agreement.

"Hurm…" Phineas muttered. "I can't say I know much about these things at all. It was Xavier Onassis who actually used them – we're just piggybacking on his tech."

"Perhaps…" Baljeet began, but the sound of voices outside the crate stopped him. "Listen!"

"So what, we gonna open this?"

"Please be quiet, my friend. Phoebus says we don't open it until he gets here. Besides, I shudder to think what it contains."

"Just another big idea, prob… proba… probationally."

"I think you mean 'probably', my thuggish acquaintance. We should remain here, and watch out for _her_."

* * *

"…_I don't want to set the world on fire… I just want to start… a flame in your heart…_"

Danville. Damn. I'm still only in Danville. A look out of my blind only confirms my dread – this cesspit of a city rears up on its arthritic hind legs, displaying its disgusting creativity for all to see. A testament to everything wrong with society these days – if Andrew Ryan saw it, he would never have founded Rapture. This place is much worse. The record playing only aggravates my mood – my damn secretary plays it non-stop, at least, when she's not fawning over my brother.

I'm McGuffin. Candace McGuffin. I'm a private eye, or that's what it says on my door, anyway. Business is slow, but I always expected it to be. After all, who wants to employ a female in this day and age, let alone one who happens to be a first-generation immigrant from a country where the men wear skirts?

So my time is spent busting my brothers, the pastime of a whiny teenager with emotional problems. Still, my brothers' creations are monstrous, and if anyone is going to pinch them, it's going to be me.

Opening the drawer of my desk only worsens my mood – I'm down to the last bottle of whisky, and second-to-last pack of cigarettes. It wasn't my choice to start, but smoking and borderline alcoholism are legally required by detectives these days, as well as a contractual obligation to hold important meetings in car parks or rooftops.

"Shapiro!" I shout over the awful din that is the Inkspots.

The music comes to a halt and the girl pokes her head round the door, with a god damned 'me? What did I do?' look on her face.

"Yes, Candace?"

"There's no whisky left, you lazy broad!"

"Sorry… bluenosed schlemiel."

"I heard that! Phoebus and Frank are up to something again, by the way. You know anything?"

Understandably, she falters and looks about nervously. You would think her carrying a torch for Phoebus would help me in some way, but it makes things a hell of a lot worse. However, I'm glad it's someone like Phoebus she cares for rather than some shifty drugstore cowboy.

"No… they might be at the docks…" she says guiltily.

The docks. I haven't been down at the docks since I lost my firearm license. That hasn't stopped me carrying a gun, I might add.

I grab my trench coat and fedora from the stand on my way out the door. Behind me, I can hear Shapiro punching some numbers on the telephone, no doubt trying to warn our triangular acquaintance.

It's raining again, which means that it hasn't stopped raining – ever since we moved here, there's been nothing but rain, and I used to live in Glasgow, so complaining about the rain here is quite an achievement. The day of the private eye is over, and here I am complaining about the rain while my life goes down the gutter. Nobody cares for us anymore. There used to be an elegance about this profession, back in the days with Sam Spade and that weird guy Marlowe. Now, I'm just a snoop, spying on husbands cheating on their broads to earn a meager amount of greenbacks. There's hardly any good similes left to use in a monologue for Christ's sake.

The streets are fairly empty – not an unusual sight actually, given the time of night. Although it always seems to be night – when I lived in Scotland everything was in color, but everything's black and white in Danville. Except of course, people's sense of right and wrong, which jumps back and forth like a mentally challenged pendulum.

Taking a quick shortcut, I pass through that disgusting alleyway next to the cinema, the one where that rich couple got gunned down in front of their son. That's the kind of city I live in. I think – I can't remember if I read that in a newspaper or a comic book. I can see the cranes looming overhead, marking the docks, almost as if they're saying 'we're marking the dock'. Damn, I'm good.

I can't help but feel I should put in a call to Captain Stacy, but since her department revoked my gun license, I've been giving them the high hat on everything, and I'm not going to stop now. It wasn't my fault that I shot her in the leg – for reasons I will not go into, she was dressed like a bear at the time. Yeah, I don't get it either.

The flash of light on a huge pair of spectacles alerts me and I grab my attacker faster than he could say 'stop grabbing me you crazy lady'. I suppose I should have asked questions first, but it's too late for that now. A couple of backhands to the face ought to loosen his tongue. Possibly literally – I've heard if you hit someone hard enough, the tongue can dislodge. However, this knowledge is based on absolutely nothing.

The weaselly little spy struggles in my grip, so I smack him around a bit, knocking him to the cold alley floor like someone being knocked to a cold alley floor. Before he can struggle to his feet, I pick up a trash can and hit him on the back with it. Now he's not just beaten up, he's beaten up and smells like a dead pigeon. I kneel down next to him and make him squeal. That would be squeal as in talk, not squeal as in what creepy inbred rednecks do to their victims to the strains of cheery banjo music.

"Irving. What's going on?"

"Ow… What the hell are you talking about?" he says, with all the trustworthiness of a man with a curly moustache.

I pull his hair for a bit and stick my finger in his ear. That should make him talk.

"What's going on?"

"Who are you?" he cries, still playing dumb.

I grab his hand and force him to hit himself, while slapping his stomach until it goes red, which hurts like hell. It stings slightly.

"I know you're Fat Albert's crony, but I want to know what's going on with Phoebus and Frank. Don't play dumb again – I'll pull your underpants over your head while you're still wearing them."

"Argh! Alright! They're waiting on a shipment! Iqbal and Biff are standing guard."

"Good," I say, and pull his underpants over his head anyway. Before I go, I steal his glasses and rip off his moustache – I'm going to need a disguise.

* * *

"Candace, why are you wearing Irving's glasses and moustache?"

I stick my fingers up the goon's nose and toss him backward into the water. Okay, so the disguise didn't work out, but I'm on the case. I slip behind a shipping crate and listen carefully. Biff van Stomm and Iqbal Rai – two bottom feeders with almost no success in anything they do. Also, they kind of smell. They're probably talking about something unintelligent as usual, or cackling about the evil work they do for Phoebus.

"No, no. Pygmalion was a sculptor, and the goddess Aphrodite gave life to his statue and he fell in love with it. It's more or less an Aesop on how we view our own success."

See what I mean? They're talking about pigs. I clamber over the various grooves of the crate, and manage to climb on top of it, gazing down at my stupid prey.

"Nah, I disagree on the moral involved, but… can you hear that?"

Too late I realize that I've been chuckling in anticipation of my success. Iqbal and Biff are looking up at me, and I have no choice. I leap down like a… kangaroo I suppose, and engage them in combat, flicking Biff on the nose so that his eyes water, and pulling at Iqbal's pathetic little beard.

"Ah! Candace, please! Leave us alone!" Iqbal yells cowardly, like a coward.

I sense Biff running up behind me, so I let go of the beard and whip my trench coat over the big gorilla's head (that's a metaphorical gorilla, I once met an actual gorilla at the zoo once, and…), which blocks his view. I take advantage of his predicament and kick him into the water. Only Iqbal's left. (It was a silverback gorilla, and its name was Mr. Huggington, and he was the smartest, most…).

Iqbal tries to run away, no doubt so he ca attack me again when I'm not expecting it. The terror on his face looks genuine to any observers, but I know he's actually a crafty little weasel. He's fast though, and I can't catch him – smoker's lungs, you see.

"I'm moving back to India!" I hear him yell in the distance.

However, I've secured the shipping crate, and I'll confiscate the goods before Phoebus gets here. In the distance, I can hear sirens blazing. Damn – Irving must have ratted me out for some reason. Quickly I pull back the heavy steel doors of the shipping crate, and brace myself for what I know will be a monstrous invention of some kind.

"Hi!" says a small ginger kid, waving happily.

I'm so surprised I forget to narrate for a moment.

"Uh… hi."

The little ginger kid steps out of the crate, unfazed by the heavy rain.

"What year is this? We've been holding bets to see."

"It's the nineteen-fifties," says a girl confidently, pulling at a bow in her hair.

"Nineteen-thirties," claims a boy wearing dungarees.

"I'm sorry, but what the hell is going on?" I ask. Honestly, if people aren't going to stick to the correct genre, I don't know why I bother.

"We're time travelers," says a fat boy, as if I'm supposed to know that. "Now answer the question lady."

"It's nineteen forty-six," I say simply. The sirens are getting closer.

A green-haired boy smirks and collects his winnings from the others, while I stand there, still held out of the loop. The ginger kid offers me a biscuit, while the others happily talk among themselves.

"Eh… do you have anything to do with Phoebus?"

"Who's that?" grunts the fat one, sitting in some sort of wheel-less car covered in levers and switches.

"This is his crate."

"Like I said, we're time travelers. We don't know anyone," says Pyramid Head, still smiling.

"Right," I say, still confused. "This is an investigation."

"Oh, sorry," he smiles apologetically. "We won't get in your way then. We'll be going."

"Already?" says the girl.

"It is an investigation," sighs Dungaree Kid. "We shouldn't be here."

"Okay, into the time machine."

The kids all clamber into the car thing, and one of them reaches for the lever. Before that happens, I stop them, handing over my gun.

"I need you to take this – I'm not legally allowed to carry one."

"Um…" Pyramid Head looks a little scared by the cold metal protector. "I'm not sure we should have a gun."

"Kid, it doesn't even have any bullets in it."

It doesn't. Bullets are expensive.

"Just take it," grunts Fat Boy.

Pyramid Head shrugs and nods to the green-haired kid.

"Bye!" they chorus, to my eternal confusion.

"Wait! What's in that?" I ask, pointing at the suitcase on the floor, which is humming like a thing that hums.

"The, uh, stuff that dreams are made of," says the green-haired boy, and just like that, the machine fades out of existence.

Wow. Lot of weirdos around these days.

* * *

"She was nice," Phineas said happily, as the time machine began to fade in.

The others nodded in agreement, as they began to look around their new surroundings. It was dreadfully cold, with a freezing wind blowing through the green hills that surrounded them.

"Did you bring jackets?" Isabella asked, covering her bare arms with her hands. Jackets had been the one thing she had neglected to pack.

"Relax," Phineas said, as usual. He put his arm around his friend, oblivious to her reaction.

Ferb reached into the storage compartment and retrieved a horrible, worn-out trench coat and held it up.

"That's all we have?" Baljeet asked with disgust.

Ferb shrugged and put the coat on, apparently unconcerned.

"Let's go exploring, then!" said Phineas, scratching his head. "After all, there's got to be something cool in all these hills!"

Isabella, Buford and Baljeet grumbled slightly, but complied nonetheless, stepping out on to the wet grass.

"The whole world to explore!" said the red-head joyfully, and set off, friends in tow.

* * *

The skull of Charles Pipping the Second rolled across the floor of the cave, bouncing up slightly as it hit various indentations. Its journey came to an end however, as the man promptly kicked it out of the cave and into the sea, chuckling slightly. The sound of rocks shifting alerted the man to the presence of his son, whose head appeared over the mouth of the cave, precariously dangling upside down.

"Here, Dad. I jist saw a bunch o' bairns wanderin the hills, looking sorta lost an' such. Think we kin jump 'em?"

The man thought carefully.

"No yet, David. We'll wait, like spiders, for them tae come tae us. Send oot yer sister to lure them in."

* * *

**Thanks for reading - now you understand what I meant by the first person narrative. I swear the other chapters will be narrated normally, I just wanted to play with the stereotypical film noir narration. Here's a challenge for you - at the end of the chapter, the gang are in Scotland, I'll admit that. I'll be impressed if you can tell what myth/legend (history's not clear) they are about to find themselves in. All I'll say is that it's the 16th century. The boy's phonetic accent is based on my own, but the father's is a typically exaggerated accent, which absolutely no-one speaks. See you all next time.**


	4. Nothing But Flowers

**I'm back! Hello again. Two things: massive author's note at the bottom, and enjoy!**

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"Where exactly are we going?" Buford complained, absent-mindedly slapping Baljeet across the back of the head as he did so. "I hate Scotland…"

"How do you know we're in Scotland?" Baljeet asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"I'm glad you asked," grunted the large boy. "One, it smells like manure. Two, the sky is grey. Three, the general atmosphere is depressing, and four, Buford smells haggis."

"Your powers of deduction are amazing," observed his Indian companion.

Phineas had managed to take five steps from the time machine before he felt something on his shoulder. He turned around to find Ferb looking concerned. The others walked past, oblivious to this, while Ferb stared at Phineas, and rather worryingly, as Phineas noticed, made brief eye-contact.

"What?"

Ferb nodded towards the time machine, which sat on the wet grass, accompanied by a gentle hum. Phineas ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what's wrong with it…" he sighed.

Phineas flinched slightly as Ferb's grip on his shoulder became tighter, and rather painful.

"I thought we'd just roll with it," he tried to explain.

"First, you yell at Caligula – understandable, but unlike you," Ferb said in a low voice. "Then you order us out of that shipping crate almost as soon as we arrived. You keep talking about adventure, but you're ignoring the problems with our vessel. What's going on?"

Ferb watched intently as Phineas' face fell, and showed a tiredness he had not seen before. The red-haired boy looked away, blinking away what might have been a tear – Ferb was now seriously worried. Perhaps Phineas was worse off than he thought.

"I…" said Phineas, coughing slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm fine, honestly, but I understand. I do have a responsibility. It's one thing to be spontaneous, but I've ignored some things that shouldn't be."

Ferb took his hand from his brother's shoulder. Buford, Baljeet and Isabella continued to walk along the grass, assuming the brothers were behind them. Phineas shuffled his feet awkwardly, and grinned, but it was somewhat shaky.

"You go explore," he said, voice cracking slightly. "I'll see to the time machine."

Ferb nodded – if Phineas would not explain himself, he would not ask, and he was happy to let his brother see to things in his own way. He patted Phineas on the shoulder and walked past him, towards the others, who turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Isabella frowned.

"What's going on?"

Ferb pointed at Phineas, and then the time machine in explanation. For reasons he could not understand, Isabella continued to frown.

"Is he alright?"

The English boy made as if to say something, but the words eluded him – he was used to practicing his sentences long before he utilised them. He looked at Isabella blankly. She gazed after Phineas, and looked back at the others.

"I'll stay with him."

Ferb nodded understandingly, and walked past her again with little thought. After a second of faltering, Baljeet and Buford fell in step walking in a general direction. The sound of the sea sounded against rocks in the distance.

"Guess they need some time alone," said Buford, grinning.

"What do you mean?" Baljeet asked, nearly tripping over a mound of grass.

"You know… with them 'wuving' each other…"

Baljeet looked confused.

"Phineas and Isabella? I do not see it, my bovine friend. Ferb? Elaborate please…"

The English boy thought of the simplest explanation, which was that his brother was an idiot, and Isabella had a one-track mind. Instead he remained silent. They had left Phineas and Isabella behind, mere shadows in the increasingly grey light, but it felt as though something was directly behind him. Every few steps he took, he swore that he could hear a crunch, as if something was taking steps four times the size of his own. Evidently, Baljeet and Buford began to sense it too, turning their heads every so often. Ferb pulled his coat closer around his body – outwardly, he remained stoic, but he was beginning to feel scared. There was something extremely unsettling about the increasingly dense fog.

A thumping noise sounded ahead of them, and Baljeet leapt off the ground, to be caught by Buford. The thumping sound rang out once more, and a shape began to loom out of the grey surroundings. Ferb instinctively bent his legs, ready to run, but stopped.

The figure was a young girl, roughly the same age as the group, or perhaps older. She was struggling with a large box, attempting to lift it, and each time dropping it to the ground with a dull 'thud' as she cursed in a soft accent. Slowly, she became aware of the newcomers, waving over to them.

"Hey! Could ye help a lass out here?"

Ferb shared a look with the other two – they had all noticed that the girl was pretty, so they instinctively darted forward, all straining to lift the box while pulling manly expressions. The girl smiled at them as the hoisted the box onto their shoulders.

"Thanks lads," she said, standing next to Ferb and touching his arm lightly. "I don't mean to ask mair of ye, but could ye help me take this to my lodgings?"

"At once!" Baljeet announced, and immediately began moving forward.

Ferb remained silent, but smiled lightly. The girl had chosen to walk beside him, and seemed to address him directly.

"Yer not from around here, are ye?"

Ferb shook his head.

"We're from a far off, exotic place," smiled Baljeet, while blushing.

"BUT I'M THE MOST EXOTIC!" yelled Buford. "SO WE SHOULD HANG OUT SOMETIME IF THAT'S OKAY WITH YOU."

Everyone looked at Buford with raised eyebrows, and he quickly focused on walking while carrying the box, muttering to himself. Ferb looked back at the girl.

"So, do you have a name?" he asked, deepening his accent in what he was sure was the most charming voice in existence.

"Its just Kelpie," smiled the girl, and pulled at Ferb's hair lightly.

For a fleeting moment, Ferb wondered why Kelpie's own hair was wet and pulled back slightly, but the thought was gone as quickly as it disappeared.

"I'm Ferb."

"Baljeet Nur-ud-din Salim Jahangir Rai," lied Baljeet.

"ATTRACTIVE… er, I mean, Buford."

Kelpie smiled politely once again, and gestured to the left. The three boys turned onto some rocky ground, stumbling occasionally as they descended. Ferb wondered where they were going, but it did not seem important. He felt sand under his feet, and the cold of water soaking though his shoes, but all he cared about was the light touch of the girl holding onto him.

The group staggered along the beach, and came to a stop at a cliff face. Kelpie gestured upwards, and the boys followed contentedly, smiling stupidly. They clambered over rocks until they reached a crack in the stone – a dark cave stretched though the land. At Kelpie's motion, they set down the box.

"Living in a cave?" Baljeet said, laughing playfully. "You would not happen to be Scottish cattle-rustlers, would you?"

Kelpie laughed, and it had a harsh edge to it.

"Sort of. Y'see, people go fair daft when cattle go missin', and ye get search parties everywhere…"

"But," a voice growled from the darkness. "People don't often bother goin lookin fir other people…"

The fear returned to the boys, and they made to run, but found themselves surrounded by a group of dirty, sickly strangers, who grinned maliciously.

A man stepped from the cave.

"Ye followed a kelpie, boys. Don't ye listen tae the stories? My name is Sawney Bean. Perhaps we kin help each other out…"

* * *

"Here we stand… like an Adam and an Eve… waterfalls… the Garden of Eden…" Phineas sang to himself as he removed the back of the time machine.

The circuitry and wiring remained as they had when he had examined them back at Nemi, slightly unstable, but functional nonetheless. Frowning faintly, he stood and removed the glowing bulb from the top of the machine, exposing the crystal within. His eyes widened slightly – the bulb was badly cracked, as if something had seeped out, and the crystal was much smaller than he remembered. He knew that the Onassis crystal functioned as some sort of fuel for the machine as much as it functioned as an anchor to each place in time, but he had never seen this before. It was as if something pulled part of it away.

This was not something he could fix. However, the time machine would need a new crystal in the near future if it were to work.

"Whatcha doin?"

He banged his head on the upturned backing as he turned to Isabella. His friend looked worried, eyes studying him gently. Phineas cursed inwardly – everything was fine with him, yet people seemed to fear the worst as soon as he so much as yawned. He was flattered by their concern, but he doubted that he was worthy of it.

"Nothing really. I just, uh, thought that I'd see to any problems while everyone else caught a break."

Isabella tilted her head.

"Phineas, you can talk to me."

"I know I can talk to you," Phineas said, smiling. "I talk to you all the time!"

"That's not what I meant," said Isabella quietly. "Phineas, what's wrong? I heard you didn't even see your therapist after the whole Smile Away thing…"

Phineas turned away and placed the panel back on the time machine. For some reason, his attention was drawn to the larger, emergency storage compartment at the base of the machine – he suddenly felt the desire to crawl inside it and escape any questioning. Luckily, something else cut through the fog, providing a distraction – a loud, blaring scream.

"Is that… the Fail Wail?" Isabella asked.

"We'd better go investigate," Phineas said, genuinely worried.

* * *

Baljeet's screaming came to an abrupt stop as a boy clouted him across the face with a large wooden club. The Indian boy sagged and was pulled along the sold rock floor by two larger men. Ferb and Buford wisely stayed silent, observing their surroundings. The cave was some two hundred yards deep, and coiled into various tunnels and grooves. There were around forty men, women and children camped on ledges and overhangs, peering down at the captives. The procession came to a halt, and Sawney turned to the boy wielding the club.

"Davie, back on watch duty."

The boy adjusted his soaking wet hat on his head and darted from the cave. Sawney looked at the darkness of the cave.

"Kindly ones, we have secured mair livestock. Any important ones?"

'Kelpie' strolled past her father, and took her place at the sight before the group, smirking coldly at Ferb as she did so. An old black cauldron sat in a circular part of the cave that was lit dully by purple flashes in the cave wall. As the young girl took her place, two other figures became visible – a middle-aged mother, and a crone-like creature of a woman, who grinned with little teeth.

"The green haired one is important," said Kelpie.

Ferb was pushed forward unceremoniously, and Kelpie and the mother held him with surprising strength. Sawney nodded nervously, and signalled for Baljeet and Buford to be taken away. With one last curtsy towards the three females, he departed with the procession.

Ferb closed his eyes as the steam of the cauldron began to sting his face. The three women only forced him closer to the boiling water.

"Something is wrong…" said Kelpie, in a sing-song voice. "With the past…"

"The present…" said the mother.

"And the future," cackled the old woman.

"And we want to know why." The three spoke as one.

"We recognise you from our scryings," said the mother.

Ferb coughed, and some of the water splashed up in his face. His struggling was easily stopped. The old woman touched the wall of the cave and gently removed one of the crystals from the wall. She examined it carefully, and apparently saw what was needed. The crystal splashed messily into the water, and Ferb tried to pull back again. The solute caused a dramatic change in the water, which suddenly swirled in imitation of a whirlpool. Images and numbers flashed in the purple storm.

"The time vortex," whispered Kelpie. "We see all…"

"But," snapped the old woman. "Not always what we want to see!"

"However," explained the mother gently, "The vortex does show memories specific to a person. So…"

Ferb gasped in pain as Kelpie slit open his palm and held it over the cauldron. His blood dropped silently into the cauldron, and the images began to take on a certain pattern. The witches watched intently as Ferb's life flashed before them.

"I don't know if he's the right one after all," sighed the mother.

"The red-haired one looks familiar," said Kelpie.

"It's not him either. Same bloodline," said the crone.

Ferb's head was pulled back sharply from the cauldron and he sank to the floor clutching at his hand. He could not get the images out of his head – specifically one of a dying boy in his arms.

The women cackled and returned to watching the cauldron.

* * *

"You know," said Buford as he was forced to the ground. "Buford's not had much fun on this trip so far."

"Ugh," Baljeet groaned faintly. "I second that thought. This is the last time I follow a pretty girl anywhere."

"I don't need 'em. Buford has a girlfriend in Canada."

"Uh-huh."

Sawney watched the children intently, before pointing at Buford. Two men turned the boy over and looked back up at their father.

"The leg. Keep the rest o' him livin' though. Don't want good meat tae go tae waste, ken?"

"We ken," echoed the clan.

* * *

David had managed to stay as lookout for roughly half a minute before he was unceremoniously tackled to the ground. A girl and a boy stood over him, talking to one another.

"Did you really have to tackle him?" Phineas asked.

"The others might be in danger, and you're talking semantics?" Isabella glanced down at the boy. "Where are they?"

"Who?" said David, with genuine confusion.

"A group of three kids came this way about ten minutes ago," said Phineas.

"Nivir heard of them. Probably goat taken by the Grey Man, haha."

David had not been expecting the girl to punch him in the face at this remark, and he winced, spitting out blood. His panicked look towards the cliff edge told Isabella all she needed to know. Hauling the smaller boy to his feet, she marched him over to the cliff.

"They're down there, aren't they?" said Phineas slowly.

"How many?" hissed Isabella in the captive's ear. "And remember, it's a long drop."

David swallowed nervously.

"There's about two score. But yer friends are probably dead by now, ken?"

"Get them to come out of the cave," said Isabella, removing the boy's cap and pulling it over her hair.

"DA! A RICH MAN AN' HIS WIFE! DOON THE ROAD! NEED TO SPRING THEM!"

There was the sound of scrambling from below and the clan began to file out, smiling wickedly and swallowing in anticipation of the sudden influx of flesh. Like spiders, they began to scuttle along the narrow paths of the cliffs, keeping low. Isabella and Phineas looked at each other, and nodded. Isabella pressed against David's neck, and the cannibal dropped to the ground harmlessly. Phineas reached down to the earth and smeared dirt on his clothes, while Isabella made sure that none of her black hair was showing. The two made their way down to the cave stealthily, as the clan barely took any notice, assuming them to be two of the numerous children.

Phineas followed the soft, recognisable humming sound throughout the cave. The hideout was mostly deserted, save for a few children and some expectant mothers. Soon, the pair stumbled into a clearing.

Sawney was waiting for them. The only warning the two received was the muffled yells of Baljeet and Buford before the cannibal dropped from the roof, swinging an axe with terrifying strength and speed. Isabella grabbed Phineas' hand and rolled to the side, pulling him into another tunnel as the man swung the axe into a thud in the wall. Ferb stood up at the sight of them, but the three women beside him lurched forward.

"That's the one!" shrieked the oldest women, pointing at Phineas.

Isabella launched herself from the cave wall, flooring the young girl that had tried to attack her. Kelpie screamed as she fell back into the cauldron, and the other two women turned in alarm. Sawney rounded the corner, ready to strike. Phineas acted impulsively, and took a handful of dirt, casting it into the cannibal's eyes.

Sawney yelled with pain, and lashed out blindly with the axe. A sudden silence fell over all of the people. Sawney's axe had cut into the crystals on the wall. The witches looked at each other with worry, while Ferb, remembering something Caligula had said, darted forward, grabbing Phineas and Isabella and sprinting form the room.

"Close your eyes, and run!" he cried to all of them, including Baljeet and Buford, who stumbled to their feet, trying to pull of their restraints.

The group sprinted towards the sound of the sea, feeling the light sun on their faces as they burst out into the light.

Sawney wiped the dirt from his eyes, and noticed that the women were all staring at him in shocked silence.

"Whit!" he snapped, before turning to see the crackling, electrifying cave wall, as strange shapes and images began to flood the small space. "Ah. Shengus."

The children landed sorely on the sand and felt the vibrations of the cave, which began to crumble violently. Ferb helped Baljeet and Buford with their restraints, as Phineas helped Isabella to her feet.

"Took you long enough!" Buford snapped.

"You were a little late, it must be said," agreed Baljeet.

"Never mind that now," said Phineas, wiping the dirt from his face. "We should get out of here before the rest of the clan comes back."

The others nodded in agreement and ran along the beach, seeking the lowest path, skirting among the rocks, wary of any clan remnants. Upon reaching the grass, they broke into a sprint, disregarding the fear of the fog and rushing through, as the time machine loomed in the distance. With a running jump, the children all landed in their seats, as Ferb began to push the necessary buttons. Phineas tapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Ferb, we're going to need another of those Onassis crystals."

"Why don't ya just get one at the next stop? They seem to be wherever we are," said Buford, with rare perception.

Phineas smiled in agreement as Ferb pulled the lever.

* * *

"Oh, no." Isabella whispered, fear cracking her voice. "Not here."

"There goes the underwear," Baljeet and Buford said simultaneously.

"Pull the lever, pull the lever!" Phineas cried.

Ferb's worst fears were confirmed – as he pulled the lever, the machine sighed softly and refused to move. A couple more frantic pulls did nothing to help the situation. The green haired boy swore.

"We need another crystal," remembered Phineas.

"What are you betting it's in there?" Isabella groaned.

Smile Away rose above them.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Quite a few things to tal about here, mostly Scottish myth related:**

**The clan of Sawney Bean are most likely fictional - there may be some truth to the story though, but it is unlikely that forty cannibals could live in Bannane Cave for so long without attracting any attention. Near the end, the clan rushes out to find a rich couple - the story goes that the man fought the clan off with a sword as they killed his wife, and escaped. He returned with soldiers (led by King James himself), and the clan were wiped out. Bannane Cave still stands.**

**A kelpie is a shape-shifter from the water, which according to legend, lures children to their deaths in rivers and lochs, usually in the shape of a horse, but they can take human shape. Obviously Kelpie is metaphorical, but she fills the purpose nonetheless.**

**The fear and the giant steps are that of the Greyman, or Am Fear Liath Mòr, a supposed Sasquatch-like creature that lives on Ben MacDhui - here it merely functions as ominous foreshadowing, and is possibly Sawney himself.**

**David follows the legend of a redcap - a bloodthirsty creature that lurks wherever there has been battle.**

**The three witches are obviously a more universal legend, most famously from Macbeth.**

**So anyway, see you next time!**


	5. Crime and Punishment

**Good morning/afternoon/evening! This chapter includes the return of the Big Bad, so enjoy! This chapter may contain Nightmare Fuel, depending on your disposition.**

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* * *

**

The scientist pressed the two wires together, smiling happily as the tiny device whirred into life, the sheer power of the device held in his hand. He leapt to his feet, forgetting his weakness briefly, before cursing in pain and leaning against the table. The great creature lurched forward from the darkness, tilting a massive head to support the scientist, who looked at the creature warmly as he clambered aboard its back. Patting it on the head, the strange pair trotted from the room as workers scrambled to repair the titanic machine behind them.

"You know," said the scientist, "I remember the day we made you. The first real success. Something that didn't run."

The creature growled appreciatively as they rounded a corner, leading out the dark halls of the castle into the rising sun. The scientist grasped at his head in the sudden light, shielding his eyes from the tropical sun. The intense heat of the island was something he could never get used to, but then again, there were reasons he could not leave.

* * *

Kurt von Eisenseite calmly smoked the pipe, waiting for the man who would soon ascend the hill to his cabin. Eisenseite put his legs up on the table and observed a spider crawling across the log roof. With a long stream of smoke, he forced the spider to fall onto the table, where he crushed it under his foot.

Eisenseite was an impatient man. He had been waiting for several days for his enemy to work up the courage to confront him. He snorted with laughter. It was not a difficult task – Eisenseite himself was far older than his enemy and posed little threat. Well, some threat, given his immense strength and ruthless nature.

"But, then," he said to himself, "That's how you get ahead in this world. Or any other world for that matter."

He stood up, wiping the dust from his uniform as he put it on for the first time in years. He growled in distaste as he felt blood pool around his feet and pulled on his boots as fast as he could, to prevent it soaking through his socks. The door creaked open, but Eisenseite did not bother to turn around. He knew who it was.

The pistol spoke once, and Eisenseite cried out in pain, stumbling into the mantelpiece before sliding to the floor, tearing pain shooting through his spine. The newcomer stepped into the room almost casually, long coat and hat obscuring triangular features.

"How you doing there, Kurt," smirked the man. It was not a question.

"I can't feel my legs, _Victor_," snarled Eisenseite.

"I suppose that is something," said Victor calmly, pulling up a chair and sitting down, keeping his eyes on his downed enemy. He too noticed the blood, and lifted his shoes out of it. "I've thought about this for years. It took a long time to get everything in order, to build a new home where the law cannot go, but it is all done now. I am ready."

"Would you like to hear exactly how she died?" Eisenseite said, the pain in his spine having gone completely numb. He reached for his dropped pipe.

Victor's face contorted viciously, pain and hatred glaring out from once innocent blue eyes.

"Even Regen begged me to spare her; she was in such a state. She didn't say a word, but I like to tell people she begged too. Begged. Like a dog."

"SHUT UP!" Victor screamed, hitting Eisenseite with the butt of the gun. The uniformed man crumpled to the floorboards, now lying in the pool of blood.

"I wonder if she was expecting you to rescue her. Waiting, perhaps, for the hero to charge through at any moment. Nobody came for her. You fled, and she died alone."

"I killed your wife and child," snarled Victor, looking away.

Eisenseite laughed.

"No you didn't. You never would, you coward."

Victor had turned his back on Eisenseite, holding the bridge of his nose as he fought back tears.

"I – I did. They begged…"

"Do you know how I know you're lying?" Eisenseite said. "I killed them myself."

Victor turned round swiftly, shock and horror outlined on his face.

"You didn't seriously think all this blood was mine, did you?" Eisenseite coughed up a large amount and grinned through bloodstained teeth.

"What have you done…" muttered Victor, clutching his head.

"Up there…" said the injured man, pointing towards the rafters.

Victor glanced upwards, and immediately regretted it. Stumbling back, he reached out for the support of the table, and promptly threw up on the rotting floorboards. The image would not leave his mind, and the knot in his stomach grew even more. The monster laughed again through mouthfuls of blood.

"The bold Doctor Victor Phineastein, afraid of a little blood. What scares you more, the actual violence, or the fact that I was happily married for twenty years? Of course, you've never killed before…"

Phineastein drew the pistol again, pointing it at the man's head.

"Even oblivion does you no justice, you satanic…"

"Ha! Listen to yourself, Phineastein," Eisenseite crowed. "You're broken – the irrepressible optimist finally brought to his knees. With your experiments, you hold no right to call anything satanic. I AM ORDER AND DISCIPLINE! And I think, I have proven my point. You're just as dangerous as I said you were. After all, you just murdered a whole family."

Phineastein realised the finality of the man's words with dawning horror. There was no going back from this point. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forgetting about his surroundings and bloodstained apparel, completely focused.

"Are you done?" he said contemptuously.

Eisenseite sighed, placing his pipe down.

"What time is it?"

The gunshot ripped through the cabin, and Eisenseite thrashed briefly but wildly as the bullet tore through his eye-socket. Phineastein lowered the gun and placed it back in the holster, breathing out slowly.

"It doesn't matter," the scientist muttered, and swiftly exited the cabin.

Ferbgor leaned against the wall of the cabin, looking up with interest as Phineastein slammed the door shut behind him. The two looked at each other, and Ferbgor nodded in response. Without another word, the two walked back down the hill, pretending that everything was normal.

* * *

The scientist blinked himself back into the present. It had been a long time – so long, in fact, that he had forgotten the exact dates. Like a common criminal, Victor Phineastein had fled to his long awaited exile, an unnamed island in the South Pacific. Although he had been damaged already, Victor died inside that day. Looking back, his idyllic existence in Druselstein had always been on a knife edge, teetering on the abyss. He found it hard to believe now that he had not foreseen it. These thoughts did nothing to relieve his pain. He weakly dug his heels in and the great creature trotted faster as they approached the beach.

Ferbgor turned away from the sea at the approaching sound. Nodding curtly, he walked towards his best friend and their loyal monster. The giant platypus purred slightly and flopped onto the sand, allowing Phineastein to slide down lightly, relishing terrain that did not hurt his legs. Ferbgor smiled slightly – it had been a long time since his friend had been this animated.

Phineastein drew the whirring device from his coat and displayed it proudly.

"What is it?" Ferbgor grunted.

Phineastein clicked a button on the base of the orb-like machine, and it opened to display the purple crystal held in place by small pincers. Ferbgor looked up in alarm.

"Risking everything…"

"Not quite," said Phineastein with a smile. "As I've said before, these crystals, if Onassis is to be believed, function as an anchor to each time zone. Like a ship, the time machine pulls itself to each time zone by tracing the signals. Remember tracing those signals? If our Jörmungandr was designed to reverse these signals and pull the time machine towards us, why can't it do the opposite? Why can't we pull ourselves towards the time machine?"

"Unsafe," said Ferbgor. "No guarantee. Volunteers in great danger."

"I know that," Phineastein acknowledged. "I regret that it's my impatience, but as it will take a while to fix the damage to Jörmungandr after our last meeting with the time machine. It's not like there's a lack of crystals. So think of this as an experiment – while our main plan is fixed, this could actually complete our task faster. It only takes one person – that person travels through the vortex, finds the time machine, and commandeers it."

"Suicide mission," said Ferbgor. "Need someone insanely loyal."

"Raskolnikov!" called Phineastein.

"I'm already here sir," said a voice.

Raskolnikov sat on the sand casually sifting it through his fingers. Ferbgor was caught off guard again – it was hard to remember that the boy in front of him was barely human. Raskolnikov appeared to the common eye as a vaguely feminine teenage boy, with a cheerful face and strange white hair. However, his true nature occasionally showed – a strange expression perhaps, or a look in the eyes that revealed the creature as one of Phineastein's experiments. Created from scratch, he was one of Victor's greatest achievements, and the best at mimicking human behavior, named after the doctor's favorite novel and generally looked upon as a son. Ferbgor felt guilty regarding his disgust towards the creature, but its 'more human than human' nature disturbed him.

"I already informed Raskol here about the broad strokes of his mission," said Phineastein, while Ferbgor merely raised a worried eyebrow.

Phineastein handed the device to the cheerful teenager, looking at him seriously.

"Once this begins," he said in a caring tone, "You'll be on your own. This device only follows the trail left by the time machine. It will not allow you to return. When the trail stops, so will this device. Once you get there – take the time machine and return to us."

"What about the children that were on it?" Ferbgor asked.

Phineastein's look darkened considerably.

"I want it taken peacefully, if possible. Perhaps they can be persuaded to come with you. However, if you encounter any resistance, terminate. With extreme prejudice."

Raskolnikov accepted this matter-of-factly. He was little more than an animal – killing held no pleasure for him, but he would not shy from it. His only concern was for his owner, not outsiders. He nodded and smiled obediently.

Ferbgor looked shocked, but said nothing. Phineastein stepped back from his loyal servant, and motioned for the process to begin. The orb crackled in the teenager's hands, reverberating with powerful, unexplainable energies. Purple light shot from within, enveloping Raskolnikov and obscuring him from view. A sudden burst of energy shot across the beach, and Phineastein, Ferbgor, and the giant platypus closed their eyes from the flash.

When they opened their eyes again, the beach was empty.

"Well," said Phineastein. "Now we see if we can't get Jörmungandr working again. Hopefully we won't need it."

Ferbgor nodded in agreement – every time they used that machine, he felt something was inherently wrong.

The three figures left the beach without a backwards glance – relics of a bygone era.

* * *

He was hurtling through a vortex – a world, universe full of energy and color, images speeding past his vision. The orb he held onto for dear life seemed to grant him some sort of protection – looking out at the time vortex, he felt as if he were in a transparent tunnel, watching water crash past. He caught flashes of the time machine's great journey, the orb whirring ever louder as it drew itself towards its crystal partner. Great creatures, a screeching red-headed girl, a dystopian future, Phineastein's lab, the court of a mad god, the seedy world of a cynical detective, the eerie fog surrounding a monstrous family, and finally, the crack of lightning.

With another burst of light, the time vortex disappeared, and Raskolnikov found himself hurtling towards the ground, landing face-first on dead earth. A prison-like building rose before him, almost draining the surrounding area of any life – the trees managed to stand oppressively while retaining none of their leaves. Crows and ravens pecked at suspicious stains on the ground.

Raskolnikov glanced to the side and chirped with happiness – hidden from the view of the prison structure lay the time machine, in the shadow of dying trees and vegetation. He bolted towards it, leaping happily into the seat, slithering over to the controls.

His face fell – not only was the technology alien to him, but it was completely unresponsive, blank screens and dull switches gazing up at him. He pulled at the lever, to no effect, and discovered that this was the case for all of the switches and buttons. He hissed angrily, and swiveled round to look at the bulb on the top of the machine, which was devoid of the light he knew it should have had. Opening it curiously, he discovered that there was no 'time crystal' as Phineastein sometimes called it.

Raskolnikov opened the orb with some difficulty, rationalizing that the crystal could be replaced with his own. A howl of frustration rang through the air as he realized that the energy inside the device had reduced the crystal to nothing – he was trapped.

However, the animal within him was patient. The occupants of the machine were doubtlessly trying to restore it – he could afford to wait. They would fix it for him. Until then, he would lie, ready to strike. He leaped out of the machine and scuttled around the back, opening the storage compartment. With inhuman dexterity, he moved inside, slamming it shut behind him. He would play the long game.

* * *

The group kept low and close to the walls of Smile Away, well aware of armed guards moving slowly above them. Ferb looked back in concern. He was not opposed to leadership, but he was worried – Phineas was not himself. The red-head was becoming increasingly pale and nervous, relying on Buford for some support.

"Phineas," whispered Isabella. "It's going to be fine, you hear? Everything's going to be fine."

"…there's a dog loose in the wood…" Phineas muttered, and then seemed to become aware of his surroundings. "It's nothing! I'm fine!"

"Hide!" hissed Baljeet, as the sudden sound of wheels scraped across the dry ground.

The group dived into a depression in the ground at the wall, lying prone in shaven hair and numerous other disgusting waste items. The wheels got ever closer, and then came to a halt. Phineas brought his legs up towards his chest, as a dark shadow appeared over them. He closed his eyes, expecting the inevitable.

"Whatcha doin?" asked a cheerful Canadian voice.

Phineas opened his eyes and sighed with relief. A small fat boy stood before them, one whom they instantly recognized as Bob, a Smile Away alumnus who had proved helpful during the invasion of Danville. Bob leaned against the trolley he had been pushing, which was filled with bloodstained jumpsuits.

"I wouldn't be this close to the wall if I were you," Bob said sensibly. "Unless you're escaping. Which I doubt. I'm Bob."

Phineas cleared his throat and stood up, some of his leadership restored.

"I'm…"

Bob waved his hand.

"Don't bother with the names – if I can barely remember my parents', what chance do I have with yours? This place, it… does things to the mind…"

Phineas paled again, while Baljeet stepped forward in his place.

"Well, my good sir, I wonder if you can help us. We are in need of a vital piece of transportation, which we believe to be located within your academy. Do you recognize this?"

Ferb held up one of his blueprints, which Bob examined carefully, nodding slowly.

"I know that – the boss keeps it in his office. The real boss, I mean, not Napier."

"Can you get us in?" Buford asked, eyes darting conspiratorially.

Bob gestured for the group to follow him, and he pushed the trolley along beside them as they moved further down the trench-like path.

"What are you doin, anyway?" grunted Buford.

"I volunteered for laundry duty," said Bob quietly. "It's cosmetic and pharmacology day, so it's always best to get out…"

"What do you mean?" Isabella asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

"Animal testing only goes so far," Bob said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "A lot of companies want human volunteers. Ironside 'volunteered' us. Or sold us, I don't know."

They came to a tunnel opening in the trench, a crudely dug underground passageway that led to a dark room, at least from their point of view. Phineas frowned, almost angrily.

"You could escape this place, using that!"

Bob smiled sadly as they entered the passageway.

"That's what it was built for. Escape. My friend and I dug it from his beneath his cell. We were going to escape together. But, one day, he loved Smile Away. And one day… I realized I loved it too."

Only Isabella heard the noise Phineas made – halfway between a yelp and a sob, hastily concealed under his breath. The floor became cold concrete beneath their feet, and an overwhelming stench met their nostrils.

"Don't touch the walls," warned Bob.

"Argh!" cried Buford as he did exactly that. "What is this?"

"It used to be a cat… My friend is a bit of a joker…"

"He's a barrel of laughs, alright," muttered Isabella.

"Yeah," agreed Bob. "Last week, he put a whoopee cushion in my bed. The week before, he set me on fire."

Something brushed against Ferb's leg and he crouched down before the mouse ran, allowing it to crawl into his hand. It was remarkably tame, and curled up happily in his palm.

"That's Silent Bob," said the fat boy.

"I thought you were Bob," complained Buford. He was already confused.

"I'm 'Bob-so-help-me-if-you-don't-shut-up-I'll-stab-you'. That's what everyone calls me." He thought of something and addressed Ferb. "Do you think you could take care of Silent Bob for us? It's not really safe for him here."

Ferb looked away from the group, hiding the expression on his face. The moment passed, and he nodded, placing the mouse in the chest pocket of his coat, where the tiny creature curled up and fell asleep again.

They ascended some hastily constructed stairs of wood, emerging from beneath the floorboards into a cell furnished in the Spartan style. The only feature of note was a chessboard sitting on a bedside cabinet. A steel door stood between them and the rest of Smile Away. Bob turned to them nervously.

"Get ready," he whispered. "The first time… it gets to you."

He opened the door.

* * *

**Hooray, it's Bob! Smile Away's Norm. Anyway, a couple of things to say here. First, why Victor? Other people have used different names for Phineastein, but I liked the Frankenstein connection. It was either that or Vincent. If you're wondering what year Phineastein and Ferbgor are in, it's intentionally vague, but given their age and Raskolnikov being a reference to Crime and Punishment, it has to take place after 1867. Here we see the introduction of Raskolnikov, the bishonen uncanny valley... thing, who will come into play later. The upcoming Smile Away chapter owes a lot to Watership Down (which you should watch, because it's great), 1984, Bioshock and the Shawshank Redemption. In fact, continuing on the Doctor Who influences throughout this story, every time Smile Away appears, you should play the Dalek theme. You'll notice that Baljeet no longer uses contractions - he doesn't in the show, but in earlier chapters I sort of forgot about this. Strangely, Phineastein and Ferbgor use them despite the time period, but that's because it looks better. Nothing much else to say - thanks for reading, see you next time!**


	6. Bright Eyes

**Hello! The usual here, but a lot of references I think - including a huge Jurassic Park one in the middle.**

* * *

"Just look at all this new security… Aheheh. All for me?"

The doctors grunted in distaste as they wheeled the patient down the dark halls of the Smile Away Reformatory School. The patient had been restrained in a straightjacket and a biters' mask, but he still managed to unnerve them. The lead doctor pulled the patient trolley to a stop at the open cell. He manoeuvred the trolley to face the cell interior and cautiously undid the restraints, and the patient hopped into the cell, still wearing the mask.

The reason for the doctors' caution was simple – the week before, during some pharmaceutical experiments, the patient had been prepared for eye injections. Upon being strapped to the table, the boy had complained of an irritant in his left eye. One of the nurses had made the mistake of leaning close to examine this, and now looked like a Picasso painting. The boy was nine years old.

The doctors hurried away from the cell as Thomas Rains loosened his mask, breathing in the air coming from the tunnel hidden in his cell. It had been a good day for him, in that he had not been force-fed pesticide. He had however been subjected to numerous injections and was wobbling slightly on his feet.

A noise from down the hall caused the black eyes to snap open. Kicking the trolley away from the door, Rains peered down the corridor. The voice he heard was undeniably feminine, bouncing off of the walls, slightly hushed, but nevertheless audible. Thomas had known perhaps three females in his life – his mother, who was certainly dead, a blonde girl back in England who he disliked immensely, and an American cousin roughly his age whose name he could not remember. It had something to do with water though, he thought.

Smile Away was technically a mixed school – there had been a few girls in the beginning, but parents were wary of sending their daughters to a school made up of mostly delinquent boys. Also, Thomas hated change, and new students were definitely a change. He was almost second-in-command, after all.

He reached for the emergency radio on his jumpsuit belt, speaking into it quickly.

"Ironside… I think we have intruders… Aheheh…"

"This had better not be a prank, Rains." Even through the weak communicator, the voice conveyed deep menace. "Especially after last time…"

"I didn't know eyes could detach! Let it go, for once! Aheh… What do I do?"

"I'm down at the river with some of the younger ones. I'll be there in half an hour. Capture them if possible," the voice paused for a moment, before adding, "You know where the dogs are. Ironside out."

Thomas took his finger from the transmitter and mimicked his boss contemptuously.

"Ooh, look at me – big American arsehole… Aheheh – whose country invented friendly fire again?" He then got completely sidetracked and stared at the wall for a few moments, watching imaginary colours blend together. Eventually he came back to reality. "Ah… yeah, murder intruders…"

Thomas did have some empathy – even he winced at the thought and memory of Ironside's river training. He mused that those children probably owed him a favour, before turning on his heel and departing to find the dog kennels.

* * *

Phineas shivered violently, covering his ears from the general chaos of the school. Shrill propaganda blared out from various speakers and mingled with the ramblings and ranting of the students, many of whom pressed up against the doors as the group walked past. Classical music travelled gently throughout the school, oblivious to the tortured sounds around it. Bob's cheerful demeanour only seemed to make things worse.

"This is Grayson, Todd, Drake and Wayne, and over there are West, Allen and Thawne, and…"

"Are we there yet?" Buford groaned loudly.

Bob looked affronted.

"But we didn't get to my room yet… You'll miss like half the building…"

"Not to offend you," Baljeet said, "But we would like to leave as fast as possible, so please just take us to our destination."

Bob whined in disappointment, but seemed to agree and gestured towards a metal staircase that rose high above what Phineas had come to think of as the Gray Mile. Their guide lumbered ahead, and they followed dutifully, staying close together for general comfort and for the sake of mental health.

"_Good evening Smile Away." _The voice coming from the speaker was cold and distant. _"This is the Voice of Fate, on the first of August, in the sixteenth year of our existence. Genuflect as you pass the scientists in the corridor, and remember – Ironside is always watching…"_

The speaker system suddenly cut off, and the group stopped abruptly, looking about in alarm. Ferb looked away quickly, remembering the date mentioned. The imprisoned Smile Away students fell silent too, confused at the sudden loss of propaganda. The speakers slowly crackled back to life, but there was something noticeably different about the speaker - including the inexplicable acquirement of a Chesterfield accent.

"_Tonight you're going to be part of a social experiment… Aheheh. Remember kids, slit your wrists down the ways, not across! Please keep your hands and feet in your cells, unless you want them ripped off, in which case, go ahead – ze dogs are hungry.__ Aheheh. We have some intruders…"_

The music became progressively louder, and Phineas clutched at his ears. Isabella swore under her breath.

"He's turned it up so we can't hear the dogs!" she shouted over the din.

"He's not that smart," said Ferb calmly. "He's just enjoying himself…"

Phineas looked up at their guide, eyes wide, fully displaying the stress that had been building recently.

"What do we do now?" he said, voice cracking slightly. "They'll smell us a mile off!"

"This is the second time in recent memory I am in danger of being eaten," Baljeet remarked to no-one in particular.

"Yeah…" said Bob slowly. "We should probably run."

He bolted away from the stairs and down the corridor far quicker than his weight should have allowed. The others glanced at each other before following suit. They darted along beside Bob, who suddenly dived through a side door. When the entire group came through, Bob slammed the door shut, leaning on it to catch his breath.

"I'm gonna kill that freak," Isabella said in a low voice, kicking the wall angrily.

"Why didn't we go up the stairs?" asked Phineas.

"The cages are in Ironside's office," Bob explained. "If we'd gone up the stairs, we'd have run right into them."

"WHAT?" Buford yelled over the music, which had changed to a disturbing lullaby.

"HE SAID…" Baljeet began, before Ferb cuffed him on the back of the head.

Phineas tilted his head back against the wall. The corridor they had turned into was much narrower, and likely operated as maintenance routes. The smell of a kitchen wafted through the low passage and provided some comfort. Bob picked his nose thoughtfully.

"We'll follow this hall along until we get to the emergency staircase, and sneak up into Napier's office, which joins onto Ironside's."

"What about Rains?" Isabella muttered darkly. "Isn't he there?"

"Not necessarily," Bob said. "That speaker-thingy is wireless. We'll hear him coming though. We won't hear the dogs."

"Okay," said Phineas with a sigh. "Along this way."

The group moved cautiously down the hallway, keeping their voices low.

"Is there any chance of running into Ironside?" Baljeet asked, whimpering slightly.

"Not if Thomas is on the speakers – that means Ironside has got to be away right now."

"Crazy…" murmured Isabella contemptuously.

"He's not crazy," Bob said in a surprised tone.

"_London calling to the faraway towns! Now war is declared, and battle come down! London calling, to the underworld! Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girl__!"_

Isabella merely smirked and Bob was forced to agree. They were interrupted by Phineas, who stumbled slightly. Ferb caught him by the collar and hoisted him back to his feet, looking at him in a concerned manner.

"What?" said Phineas. "It's just this place, okay?"

The music suddenly blared up as they turned a corner, and they all froze on the spot. The corridor stretched for a short distance before meeting another junction. It was at this junction that the shape of a huge dog was visible, sniffing at the ground. Phineas' breathing became heavy and desperate with fear, but Isabella's hand on his shoulder comforted him somewhat. The great head of the animal glanced up, having pinpointed the smell.

"_Ding dong! Aheheh. If anyone can see the dogs or the intruders, please tell me – I can't reach the CCTV__…"_

"Crap," muttered Buford, and quickly burst through the door to the kitchen. The others filed in quickly and shut the door behind them as the dog charged around the corner.

The kitchen was an impersonal haven for stainless steel, immaculate silver glinting from every possible angle. It was completely deserted however. They ran the length of a large work surface, taking cover at the end, all breathing heavily. Phineas tilted his head once again, hitting it off an oven in badly disguised frustration.

"Is there another exit?" Baljeet panted, and Bob nodded in response.

"We're safe in here," breathed Buford, in an attempt to reassure himself.

Bob chuckled nervously.

"Unless they figure out how to open doors."

A strange fluttering noise met their ears, followed by the snarls and sniffing of the two dogs as they entered the kitchen, snapping at one another.

"Or they use the dog-flaps built into the doors," Bob said sheepishly. "Move quick, and quiet."

The children kept in crouched positions and moved to the next available piece of cover as one of the dogs came down the aisle, missing them by inches. It stopped to sniff at one of the ovens, detecting the food that had been there. The other dog pawed at some pots and pans, distracted for a moment.

Edging their way back up a parallel aisle, the group headed for the exit, successfully avoiding any disturbed cutlery that might give them away. When they were halfway there, however, Phineas made an unwilling choking sound that had been lingering in his throat.

The sniffing noises stopped immediately as the dogs looked up. One stepped through an opening between the cupboards, crossing through the aisles. The Doberman's nose became visible to the terrified children as they huddled in silence. The huge muzzle was inches from Ferb's face, and he began to turn very white. The dog's face wrinkled as it slowly exposed its teeth, drooling slightly.

Buford punched a frying pan, and the dog jumped, bursting through the cupboards excitedly to find the source of the noise. Ferb breathed a quick sigh of relief as the dog charged past him, and then turned white again as he realised it was headed towards Buford.

The second dog leapt onto the kitchen counter, gazing down at the children hungrily. Isabella caught its attention and bolted from her crouched position across several worktops. The dog surged after her, clattering through boiling pots and cutlery, sending utensils everywhere. Isabella jumped over the last counter and slid along the floor towards the freezer. Making a frantic grab, she latched onto the open door as the dog skidded past her and crashed into the frozen food, whereupon she scrambled to her feet and slammed the door shut behind her.

Buford led the first dog on a chase around the aisles, laughing slightly despite his friends' terrified yells.

"Buford get out of there!"

"Do something!"

"You are being chased by a dog," Bob said helpfully.

Buford came to a halt, and turned to face the dog as it turned the corner, foaming at the mouth. It made eye contact, and snarled viciously before speeding forward, froth spraying everywhere.

"Do something?" Buford said to himself. Time seemed to slow down for everyone involved as they watched the huge predator bearing down on the large boy. "Do something! Come on, Buford wants you to do it, come on, hit be you gruesome son of a…"

The dog jumped through the air, aiming for his throat. Buford smiled viciously.

"Buford…"

The scream of 'PUNCH!' seemed to echo around the kitchen as Buford's ham sized fist crashed into the Doberman's extremely sensitive nose, the impact causing the dog to travel upwards briefly, before crashing down on the floor with a whimper. When it looked like it might get up, it was brought down swiftly by a frying pan to the head. Buford turned to his friends.

"What?" he said, smirking.

"You…" Phineas began, and trailed off.

"That's, eh…" Bob tried to say.

"What in…" exclaimed Isabella, as she approached them.

There was a long pause before Baljeet spoke.

"Buford… you just punched a dog in the face."

"And I'd do it again!" Buford exclaimed cheerily, before everyone rushed over to hug him. "Okay, one at a time!"

Phineas turned to Ferb apologetically.

"Hey, Ferb, I'm…"

Ferb held up a hand with a disgusted and angry look on his face.

"You almost got me killed," he said, quiet enough that only Phineas heard.

"_Bright eyes… burning like fire… bright eyes…Aheheh. Is anyone dying down there? Where is the carnage? Where is the beautiful screaming of children writhing in agony? … Dear God, I think I might need to see a therapist or something."_

"Yes, yes you should," said Isabella.

Bob gestured out of the door and the group hurried out, sprinting until they reached the emergency stairs that led straight up to Napier's office. The children emerged from the staircase, and upon seeing the hall empty, opened the door to Napier's office.

A bizarre sight awaited them. Phineas waved his hand to clear the suspiciously thick smoke in the office, and Isabella was wise enough to cover her nose. Larry Napier reclined in his chair, smoking a strange-smelling cigarette, and mumbling gently.

"One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small… and the ones that mother gives you…" He became aware of their presence and leaned forward to look at them. His eyes were very bloodshot. "Ah… Phineas Flynn."

"You know me?" Phineas asked, frowning.

Bob rolled his eyes slightly and went through an adjacent door to Ironside's office, followed by everyone but Phineas. The red-head stood transfixed by the perpetually grinning man.

"Where was I? Where am I going? For the benefit of Mister Kite…" Napier rubbed his eyes and waved away some of the smoke. "Ah – you see, I've often wondered if you're real. You are, more or less, the anthropomorphic personification of creativity, something my successor despises."

Napier stubbed out the cigarette, before continuing.

"I started out to help children… But then you came along… kk..."

"How is that my fault?" Phineas asked.

"If you hadn't come along, then neither would he…" Napier sighed, almost in disappointment. "Smile Away is little more than your looking glass now…"

"_TESTING? IS ANYONE THERE? ARGH! …no-one's reliable these days… do everything myself… Berkshire hunt…"_

The other children came back into the room, with Ferb clutching at the glowing prize of their ordeal. Phineas turned and smiled sadly.

"Good, let's get out of here." He looked at Napier. "Nice meeting you."

The group burst out of the office and headed at a full sprint along the corridor, coming out at the Gray Mile, at the top of the metal staircase. Bob stopped them.

"I'll leave you guys here," he said. "You know the way."

"Bye," chorused Buford, Baljeet and Isabella.

Phineas hugged their fat guide warmly, before stepping down the stairs.

"Bob," he said softly. "It gets better. Just trust me on that."

Bob would hold onto that for a long time, even after he had forgotten all about the mysterious intruders. He smiled and waved as the group hurried down the corridor.

* * *

When they entered the tunnel, Phineas felt a hand on his shoulder. Turing round, he was handed the crystal by Ferb.

"Sorry I snapped at you," muttered the English boy. "You go get the machine ready."

"Where are you…" Phineas began, but realised, and nodded, leaving the tunnel with the others.

Ferb turned to face the shape that entered the passageway, chuckling slightly. The laughter came to an abrupt stop once the figure saw Ferb in the light.

"You…" said Thomas, pure shock stamped across his features.

"Hi Thomas," Ferb stated blandly.

The smaller blonde boy stepped forward, peering at the intruder closely.

"You're so… old…" Suddenly, the boy snarled, fury replacing surprise. "You wanker! You've come here to mock me! You think you're better than me?"

Ferb caught Thomas' fist before it could make impact, deflecting it with ease and retaining his expression.

"Thomas," he whispered. "Think about the date. That's why I'm here."

Slowly, Thomas' face softened, and a broad grin crossed his face.

"Please say you're taking me with you," he said excitedly. "Aheheh…I thought you'd just left me here to…"

"You can't come with me."

"What?"

"That's not how things work. But I want you to know, on this day especially, you're not alone and that you don't have to go down this path…"

The crackle of the transmitter interrupted him, and Thomas raised it to his face.

"Thomas!" It barked angrily. "What's going on? Where are the intruders?"

The two boys made looked at each other, emotionless black eyes boring into pleading brown. Thomas sighed and spoke to his commander.

"They got away."

He dropped the communicator to the ground.

"Thank you," Ferb said. "I…"

"Shut the hell up," Thomas snapped. "On account of the day, you can go. But seriously, Silent Bob, what the hell? How did you think I'd react to your whole 'repent' thing here? You can't take me with you because of some crap, and you expect me to thank you or something? Go to hell. Next time I see you, I'll kill you. And your girlfriend I overheard."

Ferb looked hurt, and turned away, heading out of the tunnel, and out towards escape.

"Wait. Aheh."

Ferb glanced over his shoulder. Thomas looked much smaller.

"If it ever gets too hard out there," the inmate said quietly, "Well, there's always a place for you here. Nice coat by the way."

With that, Thomas Rains was gone, and Ferb smiled faintly, jogging out of the tunnel and across the oppressive grey landscape. Phineas waved to him from the gently humming time machine. He heard shouting above him, but disregarded it, breaking into a run, reaching their vehicle in no time.

"Have fun?" Isabella said sarcastically.

"Let us just leave!" yelled Baljeet.

Phineas laughed with relief, and moved towards the lever. There was a sound like a car back-firing, and he looked up in alarm.

In the distance, he saw the shape of the drill sergeant lowering his gun.

"Phineas?"

He turned, and saw Ferb clutching at his side, trying desperately to stop the fast-growing pool of red smearing his clothes.

"Ferb!" Phineas yelled, as the lever shifted, and Smile Away faded from view to be replaced by the familiar vortex.

Phineas grabbed his brother, eyes searching frantically for something he could do to save the day, like he always did.

"Ferb, listen to me… It's going to be okay… everything's going to be…"

* * *

**Thank you for reading! The disturbing lullaby Thomas plays over the speaker system is the theme from Pan's Labyrinth - one of Ironside's main inspirations was Captain Vidal from the same film. Yes, Napier's scene is weird, but it stops Phineas from entering Ironside's office - a place he is unable to enter in relation to character. Also, I do not condone the punching of rabid hellhounds unless of course you're good at it. I feel a bit guilty for basically ending the chapter on a punch to the reader's stomach, but I think it was quite effective. And really, from the moment Thomas started singing Bright Eyes, you could have expected it. It's always a bad sign when Bob leaves the group - sort of like Shooing Out the Clowns, really. For those keeping track, this chapter takes place in 2008, two years before the Smile Away takeover and a short while before Napier's death. So see you next time, after a few words from our sponsor:**

**My name is Ironside, and I'd like to ask a question. When the grass in a garden gets too long, do you let it grow? Of course not - you cut it down. The same applies to children - those that rise above the rest shall be cut down, their morally objectionable imaginations destroyed! And in time, everyone will learn to love Smile Away...**

**Until next time!**


	7. Stop Making Sense

**Hello again - slightly late update, but I was a bit busy this week.**

* * *

"Ferb? Ferb! Good mornin', Ferb! Wake up sleepy heid!"

Ferb grunted in annoyance. From what he could tell, it was bright outside, and the noise was already getting to him, drilling into his head. His side hurt badly, and he reasoned that this was enough of an excuse to stay in bed. He began to hear the gentle splashing of water and hoped that Phineas had not planned to wake him up with a bucket of tap water to the face. It would not be the first time.

"Hello? Is there anybody in there? Jist nod if you can hear me… Is there anyone home?"

Ferb made a whining sound as his warm covers were rudely pulled away from him, the bitter cold of the morning infecting his previously happy existence. The pain in his side hurt even more. He reluctantly opened his eyes.

He was on a boat, as far as he could tell. Looking up, he could see the stalactites of a dark cave reaching down towards him. He turned his head to find the speaker.

"Finally," said the kelpie, rolling her eyes. "For Christ's sake, ye were out fer ages."

Ferb struggled to sit up and held his head in confusion, blinking slowly. When he opened his eyes, he was able to see all of the boat's occupants. As well as the kelpie, Claudius sat nervously on a bench beside the detective.

"What's going on?" Ferb asked slowly, experiencing a jarring pain as he did so.

"Goin' down the river, ya eejit," said the kelpie.

"Why?"

"Not everything needs some sort of explanation," she replied. "That's yer problem right there. You see problems in the first place, instead o' accepting them fer what they are. I mean, look at folk tales – they accept the strange as part of everyday life. It's much simpler to accept that monsters exist rather than findin' some other explanation."

Candace McGuffin snorted with laughter, which nearly caused Claudius to jump out of the boat in surprise.

"Biggest load of crap I've ever heard in my life, and I've heard a lot – I met Ayn Rand after all."

Ferb continued to look on in confusion as the kelpie furrowed her brow.

"You can do better?"

"Do better," scoffed McGuffin. "Of course I can do better. Babe, you're good, I'll give you that, but me – I'm magic."

McGuffin turned her head to Ferb.

"Listen to me. There's a point to what that haggis-muncher is trying to say, but not the way she means it. She thinks you should accept it, but I think you should find out what's causing. Contrary to popular belief, there is a mystery to the street and there is an arch-criminal behind it all. You just got to do some digging."

Ferb coughed, and realized that there was blood on his hands. He looked down at his side, and another burst of pain ricocheted through his system. The others did not seem to notice. Ferb angled his head to see over the edge of the boat, and his eyes widened in surprise and recognition.

"Thomas," he said, looking for someone to explain things. "What's going on?"

"He's got it!" said McGuffin.

"He's not getting it," complained the kelpie.

The blonde boy was chained to a rock, looking up at the poison dripping into a small bowl above him. At Ferb's call, he managed to raise his head a little.

"Here till the end, old chap!" the boy yelled over. "When I'm done, I'm going to take a branch of mistletoe and run your brother through!"

The boat sailed on, and Ferb gasped as even more pain came from his side. He could hear voices echoing throughout the cave, ones that did not seem to belong in his surroundings.

"My brother! Just help him, he's hurt!"

"Waste of time…"

"Shut up, N… bring him through… extract shrapnel…"

"I t-think that you're both right," said Claudius after some time.

Everyone turned to look at the Roman, figuring that if he had been silent for this long, he had something intelligent to say.

"c-Caligula once said that he didn't believe in gods, but that he w-was one anyway," Claudius continued in a low voice, gazing out of the boat. "He said that as long as people perceived him a god, he was one. That's the n-n-nature of stories. Find out the truth to a certain point, but that truth is ultimately f-fiction. So, yes, strange things happen, and strange things have an explanation, but not necessarily a r-rational one. If there's something wrong, it's probably p-part of something bigger."

Claudius fell silent and resumed looking at the water on the outside of the boat. Ferb turned to the kelpie, who gently rowed the boat, humming softly.

"Where are we going?"

"Depends," she said with a shrug. "As of now, over this waterfall."

Ferb shot up in alarm, ignoring the pain. The river came to an abrupt stop at the end of the cave, and only open sky stretched beyond that point. He tried to grab the oar from the girl, but he could not move.

"…gunshot… his side…"

"…not a gunshot… hull shrapnel…"

"In shock…"

The boat teetered over the edge of the waterfall, the roar of the drop ringing in Ferb's ears and dragging them down. Ferb closed his eyes as the boat began its rapid plunge, racing towards the rocks far below. He feverishly hoped for a rescue he knew would never come. The laughter of the kelpie rang in his ears, now louder than the waterfall itself. There was no reprieve to come. There was…

"FERB! WAKE UP!"

Ferb's eyes shot open and the pain shot through him again, causing him to writhe on the table. Several hands held him down, and Ferb was able to see Phineas in his peripheral vision, hovering nearby with the others attempting to console him. Ferb's gaze turned to the man who was directly above him, concerned eyes glinting from behind a plague doctor's mask.

"Get those children out of here!" yelled the doctor.

Phineas protested weakly as armed guards ushered him from the room, along with his companions. The time machine was visible in the room outside.

"Sorry," said Leonardo Da Vinci, from behind the doctor. "But this is going to hurt quite a bit."

Ferb promptly fainted once again as four inches worth of shrapnel was pulled from his side.

* * *

Raskolnikov was in pain. Undeniable, unrelenting pain. He clutched the side of his face in an attempt to stem the blood. He had been in the storage compartment for some time when his targets had returned to fix the machine. He had known how close he was to success. But then a gunshot had sounded, followed by the crash of the impact against the hull of the time machine, and the yell of the boy above, who must have been pierced by the ensuing shrapnel. Raskolnikov had taken a moment to realize that he too had been struck, as something tore through the time machine and cut across his face. He had needed to bite down on his hand to prevent crying out in pain, and had remained in that position for some time.

The storage compartment opened with a groan, and he fell out, striking his face on the floor. He let out a scream of pain, ad suddenly became aware of the following silence.

"What was that?" Buford asked.

By the time the children got to the time machine, Raskolnikov was long gone, an open window shaking slightly in the wind, rain coming through into the house.

He made his way along the streets, which were thankfully quiet due to the time of night, clutching his face. Going to a doctor was useless unless he found some money, but even so, that was not part of his instinct. His instinct told him to retreat into a corner and wait for it to heal. The human part of his brain reasoned that this was not particularly intelligent, but it was shoved aside by animalistic panic.

He would have to watch those children and make sure they did not suddenly leave. Once he was healed, he would seek them out, and take the time machine.

The cathedral reared up before him, the great oak doors shut to the world. With some struggle, he managed to ease the door open wide enough for him to slip through, and it slammed shut behind him again. He stumbled down the aisle, nearly crashing into the pews. Wind and rain had blown in when the door opened, and whistled ominously through the giant pipe organ.

Raskolnikov did not know where exactly he was going, but continued through a side door and up a winding staircase. He heard the roll of thunder in the distance as he entered the bell tower. Some sort of priest was standing at the ledge, observing the storm. When he turned around, he was at first taken aback, and then taken with concern.

"_Sta bene_?" said the priest.

Raskolnikov had no idea what the priest was saying, but lowered his hand from his face. The priest gasped audibly and hurried to the boy's side. Raskolnikov collapsed against the man.

"_Cume te ciamet?_"

Raskolnikov groaned as the priest helped him to sit down. He rolled his head towards his helper, blood stained white hair dangling in front of his eyes.

"Help…" Raskolnikov breathed.

* * *

Phineas paced back and forth anxiously, doing his best to ignore Ferb's cries of pain. He wished they could have arrived at a better, more sufficiently medically equipped time period, but there was no guarantee that they would not end up in an even worse situation.

"Irrigate the wound. Yes, cool it. You may wish to close your eyes."

Ferb's wound was not particularly serious, or so the doctor had told them. Part of the hull from the time machine had punctured his side, but it had not hit anything vital, and seemed to be a textbook knife-wound, more or less. However, infection was almost a certainty. Phineas did not know how long they would be stuck for until Ferb healed.

"Phineas?" said Isabella. "It might be a good idea to move away from this place. You don't want to hear that."

Phineas nodded and followed the others dumbly into Leonardo's main workshop. The Italian had, rather understandably, been shocked when the time machine had materialized on his kitchen table, but he had taken Ferb's health as an immediate priority. Phineas sat down at one of the great desks – evidently, Leonardo's employer was providing everything he could afford.

"He will be fine Phineas," Baljeet tried, smiling weakly.

"Yeah, it's not like your family's easy to kill," Buford called over.

"He's right," said Isabella. "Remember, Candace took like three bullets, and she's doing great!"

Phineas only nodded once more. Looking for something to distract him, he leafed through some of Leonardo's sketches, including one for some sort of hang glider. He picked it up and examined it with interest. Upon closer inspection, he could see that Leonardo had scribbled 'Ornithopter' at the side.

"Not enough florins," came a voice.

Phineas looked round to see the new arrival. Machiavelli was standing in the doorway, carrying some sort of burlap sack. Shaking water from his green hair, he crossed the room and placed the sack on the desk, taking care to avoid crushing Leonardo's drawings. He opened the sack and removed several sets of clothes and bed sheets, tossing them over to each of the children. The children thanked him, but he waved his hand.

"Not my idea," he said gruffly.

When Phineas spoke, his voice was hoarse and strained.

"What do you mean not enough florins?"

"It's what you were thinking," said Machiavelli. "You were wondering why it hasn't been built, and there's your answer. We're here to build war machines, not indulge our hobbies. Although, given the sheer amount of handsome young men entering and leaving, I think Leonardo's found a new hobby. One can only hope it is cheaper, but I suspect it is not."

Phineas looked disappointed, and resumed staring wistfully at the sketch. Machiavelli took no notice, and walked away, most likely back into Ferb's operating room.

"I don't get it," said Buford, holding up the sheets. "Are we just meant to sleep in here or something? He didn't make anything clear!"

"He's a bit of a jerkass," admitted Isabella.

"He's very cynical and bitter," said Leonardo, drying his hands on a towel as he entered. "But I can't do my projects without him, and I wouldn't want to."

"How's Ferb?" Phineas cried, almost leaping out of his chair.

""Well, presumably, he'll be fine," said Leonardo. "I'm not a doctor, but I imagine Malfatto will be applying the sutures sooner or later, and after that, we'll just have to wait and see."

Seeing Phineas' downcast face, the inventor purposefully brightened his tone.

"But like I said, he'll be fine!"

Leonardo was a relatively short man, unkempt red hair obscuring much of his triangular face, the lower part of which was similarly covered by a short beard. Despite his current mood, Phineas instinctively liked the man – he was good-natured and had shown them extreme kindness in their circumstances.

"I'm sorry that there isn't much room at the moment," said Leonardo. "The only spare bedroom is Salai's, up the stairs. I don't think you'll sleep well though," he added, glancing at all of them. "Please try. You won't be doing yourselves any favors."

"What happened to the mouse?" said Buford suddenly.

Leonardo seemed confused for a moment, and then remembered, reaching into one of his pockets and displaying Silent Bob, who seemed completely fine with the recent turn of events, sleeping peacefully. Phineas took the mouse from Leonardo and sat back down in the chair.

"He did have a point," yawned Buford. "I'm going to bed."

"Tiredness will not help anyone," agreed Baljeet.

The two boys wandered upstairs, with Buford pushing Baljeet back down every few steps or so. Leonardo turned to Phineas and Isabella.

"I'm going back in there," he said apologetically. "But you should really get some rest."

With that, he departed swiftly. When the door opened, Ferb's moaning could be heard for a brief moment.

There was an uncomfortable silence between Phineas and Isabella for some time. Phineas continued to pretend to read Leonardo's documents, while Silent Bob slept quietly beside him. Isabella tried to break the silence.

"Don't you think you should go to sleep as well?"

"No," said Phineas, without turning around.

"Phineas," said Isabella pleadingly. "There's nothing you can do, and it's not your fault. Stop acting like this."

Phineas did not reply. He heard the scrapings of a chair being pulled up, and soon found that Isabella was sitting at the huge desk alongside them. She looked at the blueprints absentmindedly, and smiled weakly.

"Well, if you're not going," she said. "Neither am I."

Phineas did not let her see, but he smiled a little at that.

* * *

As Raskolnikov lay on the bed, hearing several priests and attendants rushing in and out, he found himself listening to his own breathing. His face felt raw and scarred, and he had to angrily swipe away his white hair as it repeatedly fell in front of his eyes. He whined occasionally, and every time he did, his face stung even more. A doctor had attended to him briefly, mumbled something in Italian and left abruptly. Raskolnikov still did not know if that was good or bad.

Eventually, his thoughts drifted back to his father, and how disappointed he would be if he could see him now. Raskolnikov cried silently.

"_Hey Victor! Whatcha doin?"_

_Phineastein smiled broadly as Ms Shapiro entered the castle, turning away from his work, which unfortunately for Ferbgor, created a small fire that Victor took no notice of. Victor walked over to his friend._

_"Look, I'll show you!" he said enthusiastically._

_Grabbing her hand, Phineastein pulled Ms Shapiro around the water tank, pointing at various levers and buttons and generally over explaining everything. Ms Shapiro smiled politely as she was shown yet another crucial part of the contraption that defied so many natural laws. Eventually, Phineastein approached the water tank itself._

_"And this," he said triumphantly, "Is our newest creation."_

_The water tank was filled with a glowing green liquid, casting the castle in an eerie light. Ms Shapiro whistled in appreciation as she saw the boy floating within. White hair sailed above the creation's head, borne by the water, and the limbs dangled uselessly at the moment._

_"Is he alive?" she asked._

_"It's in a sort of stasis," explained Phineastein. "Made from human tissue and altered animal – like usual, we're going to awaken it with a lightning strike, and then…"_

_"He," stressed Ms Shapiro._

_"What?" said Phineastein, confused._

_"It's a he," she said, pointing up at the creation in the tank. "You created him, you should know… I mean, for all intents and purposes, he's your son."_

_Phineastein looked at her strangely, feeling a strange urge to brush the hair from her eyes._

_"My son," he repeated. "I have a son…"_

Raskolnikov could not remember how long ago that had been – he did not age in the typical sense, and had always looked the same, so it was hard to judge time. However, he assumed it had been a very long time, as they had been in Gimmelschtump, and Phineastein had been happy. It had been a long time since he had been happy.

He whined again, more pain shooting through his head and face. It was in the early hours of the morning by this point, and Raskolnikov became slowly aware of his predicament. He was wounded and alone in a strange place, with no-one to turn to, and only one possible way of returning home.

When he recovered, he would hunt them down.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I have a few things to say here - first of all, the setting right now is Cesena, Italy c.1502. I would have made that more explicit, but I couldn't be bothered going through the whole 'where are we' process. Leonardo and Machiavelli are currently being ordered about by Cesare Borgia (Leonardo being roughly 40 years old and Machiavelli roughly 33), with Leonardo likely constructing war machines left and right. The cathedral Raskolnikov takes shelter in is based on the St John the Baptist Cathedral in Cesena, but it is not neessarily the same one. Why are we in Italy again? Well the answer is that I'm slightly lazy. Nah, I just thought the Renaissance would be a pretty good place to visit (and stay for a while, given Ferb's condition). See you next time!**


	8. Requiescat in Pace

**Hello again! Please note: Cesare Borgia's dialogue is intentionally bad, I swear! Enjoy.**

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The grandfather clock ticked with perfect precision, echoing down the dark corridors of the old house. Outside, the snow fell lightly, spinning gently to the ground in the cold woods of Druselstein. It would have provided an excellent backdrop in which to tell a story – but Eisenseite did not tell stories.

Glaring out of the window, the man listened intently to the clock in the corner. Unlike his guests, the clock was on time. His butler hovered nervously in the doorway, repeatedly pausing to slide spectacles back up a hooked nose. Eisenseite grimaced and reached for the bottle of whisky at his side. He might as well have poured it to the ground – the drinking was merely an action to pass the time rather than a voluntary motion.

"Sir?" the butler asked.

Eisenseite did not respond.

"The sullen winds south of here may have delayed them. Perhaps we should…"

His nerve having failed him, the butler backed out of the door. Eisenseite did not acknowledge the departure, but then, he had not acknowledged the butler in the first place.

The sound of horses galloping through the woods met his ears, and he grimaced.

"Fifteen minutes late," he growled.

The carriage pulled up to the house, sliding in the thick snow. Several men hopped out of the carriage and headed indoors, where the butler welcomed them hesitantly. Eisenseite turned to face the door as the men entered.

"Evening, Mayor!" called the leader, a fat, cheerful-looking man in his twenties.

The other men murmured in agreement and filed into the room, leaning against bookcases and desks in order to find room.

"One more to come," said Eisenseite.

"It's Regen, isn't it?" asked the fat man, Robert. "The famous monster hunter?"

"I don't care what he himself is famous for," said Eisenseite, crossing the room to sit at his desk. "I care what his family is famous for."

The sound of nails scraping against a chalkboard screeched through the room, and most of the men placed their hands over their ears, pulling pained faces. The source of the sound was a man sitting in the corner, pulling his nails down a miniature board. He smiled happily.

"I'm here."

Eisenseite was not amused.

"You are late, Regen."

The man in the corner hopped to his feet and strode into the light. He was young, but his face was weathered badly, and several criss-crossing scars ran across his mouth.

"So what is my family famous for?" Regen asked in a horribly fake German accent. "The Regen's have been a peaceful folk…"

"But you're not a Regen, are you?" Eisenseite said with a smirk. "Rains."

Regen made a face and looked away.

"I'm not one of them," he muttered.

"I think you've got the wrong guy," said Robert. "This is Loki Regen, the greatest monster hunter in all of Druselstein. What kind of a name is Loki, by the way?"

"My brother's got it worse – he's called Jellon," said Loki, reverting to his true English accent. "I'm not like the rest of them. I don't even do the laugh."

"You killed the Wolf Man, didn't you?"

Regen grinned and displayed a lengthy scar along his left arm.

"He almost got me. Buried him back where he came from."

Eisenseite noted with some distaste that he had managed to recruit the only member of the Rains family that had a conscience. The mayor rubbed his temples a little before speaking.

"We are in the grip of terror here in Gimmelschtump," he growled. "Hideous experiments have been occurring under my nose for God knows how long. This lack of human restraint ends here."

He slapped a picture of a castle down onto the desk.

"Doctor Victor Phineastein and his assistants have been creating disgusting experiments for years now. It's time we removed them from this God-fearing town."

"So," Robert realised slowly. "Constance was telling the truth after all?"

"Indeed. Although I dismissed her previously, it seems that she was correct."

Loki held up a sketch of a giant creature, pointing at its distinctly platypus-like features.

"They made this thing," he said. "It nearly had my arm off in those woods two weeks ago. I think it's the same one that killed old Jekyll Doofenshmirtz."

"It is," confirmed Eisenseite.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Robert asked. "We're hardly going to get an angry mob for mad scientists again. The people will not go for it."

"I agree," said Eisenseite. "But there have been several reports of missing children lately. The people will be out for blood."

"Alright," said Loki. "Two conditions. One: I get to kill this platypus creature. Two: No women, no children. If there are any casualties of that sort, you're dead.

"Women can fight too," said one of the men from the back. "Me ol' nan once tore a feller's Mars and Venus off for callin' her a boot…"

"Why is he cockney?" asked Loki.

Everyone shrugged.

"Okay, no civilians then."

"We'll see," said Eisenseite.

* * *

Victor Phineastein and Elizabeth Shapiro walked through the gardens of the castle, observing Victor's bizarre creations flitting from branch to branch. Victor was rather proud of himself – recently he had created an almost perfect human being from scratch. Of course, Raskolnikov did not look quite right, but there was always room for improvement. Elizabeth's silence went unnoticed as he continued to admire his own work.

"Victor?" she said eventually.

"Hm?" It was obvious that he was not listening.

"Do you love me?"

"What? Yes, sure, of course," he muttered with disinterest.

Elizabeth made a sheepish noise and shifted from foot to foot. Once again, Phineastein took no notice whatsoever. In the distance, he could hear Constance screaming at Ferbgor for some reason.

"Victor!"

"What?" he asked, his voice slightly elevated.

"Do you love me?"

He studied her face intently. She was turning red – not from anger however.

"You know I do. Why, what's wrong?"

She mouthed the words, and Phineastein turned very, very pale. Of course, he knew how that sort of thing had happened; he had just never suspected it would happen to him, the great Doctor Phineastein. Elizabeth looked at him with some concern and tapped his head to make sure he was conscious.

"Victor, I need to know you're with me on this," she pleaded. A pregnant unmarried woman would not be well received by the community.

"…Yes…yes, of course," said Phineastein, his upper brain functions having returned. "You just caught me by surprise, that's all."

The couple walked back up towards the castle, the silence between them more awkward than before.

* * *

Phineas disconnected the bulb from the top of the time machine carefully, and placed it inside one of Leonardo's desks nearby. There was no sense in wasting the machine's power, and he did not want to have to find another power source. Silent Bob squeaked curiously from his cage, which Leonardo had built for his own amusement.

It had been three days since their arrival, and Phineas had only seen Ferb briefly. Every time he had, the English boy had been asleep. Isabella was asleep next to the time machine, having succumbed to the exhaustion of trying to cheer up her friend. Buford and Baljeet were nowhere to be seen, having presumably left to explore Cesena, which they did often. Phineas felt that they were purposefully avoiding him.

The doors of the house burst open angrily, and Cesare Borgia charged into the house. Ignoring Phineas completely, he barged into Ferb's room.

"LEONARDO!" yelled the pope's son.

Leonardo and Machiavelli appeared from nowhere in particular, smiling false smiles.

"Cesare, a pleasure, as always," said Leonardo.

"ENOUGH! WHERE ARE MY WAR MACHINES! MY INSTRUMENTS OF THE APOCALYPSE THAT ALLOW ME TO RIDE THE SADDLE OF THE WORLD!"

It took Phineas a moment to realise that Cesare was not intentionally shouting, and that the man apparently talked like that all the time.

"Ah, so it's world domination now?" said Machiavelli with a smirk.

"OF COURSE!" Cesare had failed to recognise the sarcasm in Machiavelli's words.

"Well," said Leonardo, "We're helping this boy get better – we fell behind a little…"

"SILENCE! I EXPECT SOMETHING BUILT TODAY! WHAT AM I PAYING YOU FOR? SITTING AROUND LIKE WET NURSES?"

"It's just not possible…" Leonardo began.

"Actually," came an English voice, "We could build something for you, if you like."

"Ferb!" Phineas exclaimed happily, running into the room.

Ferb held out a hand to prevent Phineas from hugging him and smiled weakly. He looked pale and thin, but the sharpness of his eyes suggested he was aware of his surroundings. Cesare looked down at the two boys.

"CAN YOU BUILD?"

Phineas looked at his brother and nodded.

"Definitely."

"What do you want us to make?"

Cesare pondered the question for a moment, before displaying Leonardo's sketch of the flying machine. Machiavelli snorted with laughter, while Leonardo looked concerned.

"You can't expect them to do that!"

Phineas smiled confidently as Ferb managed to slide himself out of the bed. Ferb staggered slightly, before sitting back down on the bed.

"You don't know us then."

"I EXPECT RESULTS UPON MY RETURN!" exclaimed Cesare, disappearing with a swish of his cloak.

"Right mess you've got us into," observed Machiavelli.

* * *

Raskolnikov was in Leonardo's house. Hopping along the rafters, he descended silently, landing at the time machine. He got into the seat, making sure he was not heard by the people next door, and pulled the lever.

Nothing happened. Again.

He nearly tore his bandages off in frustration, but remembered where he was. He stepped out of the machine again and looked around. There were too many people in the house. He would have to get the inventor alone.

Something caught his eye, and he turned to see the girl sleeping next to the machine. She looked familiar. Twisted memories raced through his head, and he took a step back. Disturbed, he slunk back out of the window.

* * *

"Does it hurt?" Phineas asked his brother as he applied the wooden structure to the expansive frame.

Ferb held his hands up to demonstrate that it was indeed, very painful. He produced a sharp piece of the time machine's hull and displayed it proudly.

"The doctor let me keep it."

"Wonderful," said Machiavelli. "Absolutely touching. Get back to work."

Ferb ignored him, passing a tool over to Leonardo.

"This is my way of saying thanks…"

"Oh, bang up job so far, getting us yelled at by our boss and now trying to get us fired."

"Calm down," said Leonardo. "They seem to know what they're doing."

"All we really need now is a montage," said Phineas as he completed the first wing.

While they were working, Ferb began to talk in a low tone to Phineas, concern audible in his voice.

"I've been thinking," he said. "My inventions don't break. At least, they don't break on their own."

"What do you mean?" Phineas asked.

"Stories come full circle," Ferb recalled. "I think that someone is after us."

"That's a little paranoid, don't you think?"

Ferb shrugged and went back to work.

* * *

Baljeet and Buford wandered through the cathedral, stopping occasionally at stain glass windows. Mass was long since over, and the boys had been allowed in to look around, as the priest had told them many people did. Baljeet was pleasantly surprised that no-one had commented on his heritage – the Italians just assumed him to be a Moorish convert. Buford however, was not happy.

"Sightseein's borin'," he complained loudly.

"It is part of a fascinating culture. You should really expand your interests," said Baljeet, examining the image of a saint.

"It's part of a borin' culture. The only good thing they have is spaghetti, and I don't think it's been invented yet."

"It emerged in Southern Italy in the twelfth century," said Baljeet, moving to the next window. "It will not become widespread until the nineteenth."

"We're having a conversation about the history of spaghetti… Sometimes, I think we're not very important to the plot…"

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Baljeet rolled his eyes, eventually resting them on the stairs to the bell tower. Grabbing Buford, he excitedly sped up the staircase, grinning broadly. The other boy groaned loudly, expecting another lecture on the history of church bells. When they reached the top however, Baljeet stopped, looking out across Cesena.

"Look, there is Phineas! And Ferb! And to a lesser extent, Isabella!"

Buford could make out the triangular boy in the distance, fitting himself into what looked like a glider. To get a better view, he moved along the tower, clambering up a statue of Saint Michael holding a spear.

"I think he's gonna jump…"

Phineas spread the wings of the glider wide, causing Machiavelli and Leonardo to be knocked backwards. He glanced at his brother.

"You sure you don't want to try?"

Ferb shook his head. He was having difficulty walking, and had wisely decided not to exert himself. Phineas smiled happily. Things seemed to be back to normal – at least, he was enjoying himself. Normality was sort of rare in his lifestyle.

"Ready for takeoff?" Leonardo cried, wearing bizarre goggles, his hair tied behind.

"Please clear the runway," replied Isabella.

"Three, two, one," said Machiavelli.

Phineas jumped from the roof. He had never doubted one of Ferb's inventions, and despite the English boy's current state, Phineas still trusted his workmanship. Sure enough, the wings held, and the machine became airborne, shooting across the Cesena sky. Phineas adjusted his flight mask slightly, and saw Baljeet and Buford waving to him from the cathedral bell tower. Grinning, he dived downwards close to the tower, returning their waves.

It was too late that Phineas realised Baljeet and Buford were trying to warn him.

Something snapped at the back of the ornithopter. The wings still flapped powerfully, but the craft was heavier than before. Phineas realised that something had jumped onto the craft. He heard Leonardo and Isabella shouting in the distance, but the craft was beginning to veer, and soon began to spiral rapidly.

A flash of white hair clouded Phineas' vision, and a strange boy was suddenly there beside him.

"Get off!" Phineas cried. "You'll kill us both!"

"Where is it?" yelled Raskolnikov over the roar of the wind.

Phineas tried to push the attacker away, but he was grabbed by the throat.

"Where is it!"

The ornithopter dived down, turning on its back as it crashed down on the roof of the cathedral. Phineas' impact was lessened by Ferb's safety precautions – his back and head were protected by the soft cover of the ornithopter as it skidded along the tiles. Eventually it came to a stop at the wall of the bell tower.

The sound of ringing in his ears, Phineas cut himself loose of the straps, sitting up and blinking. He thought that he could hear Baljeet shouting.

"Give me it, he's in trouble!"

"You cannot break a piece of art! Allow me to wield it, if you must, you Neanderthal!"

The flash of white met his eyes again and Phineas was tackled across the tiles. His attacker was screaming at him in a bizarre accent, demanding things of him.

"I WANT TO GO HOME! BEFORE! MAKE IT WORK!"

Raskolnikov tumbled towards the edge of the roof with Phineas still in his grasp, biting and tearing savagely. Phineas held up his arms weakly to prevent the creature damaging his face. Some of the tiles began to fall loose, and Phineas felt his legs slip from the ledge, and he held onto the remaining tiles by his nails.

"We're not gonna get there in time!" Buford was yelling.

"Throw me, you ignoramus!"

Raskolnikov pulled Phineas' face close, growling menacingly. The feral creature brought its face an inch away from Phineas'.

"Everything's depending on me!" Raskolnikov cried, raising a hand. "Tell me how it works or you go over!"

Phineas struggled in Raskolnikov's grip, feeling himself hanging in the air, the streets of Cesena far below.

"I…" he spluttered out, and as he did so, he made eye contact with the creature.

"Father?" said Raskolnikov.

Saint Michael's spear erupted from the white haired boy's chest, missing Phineas by the slightest distance. Phineas felt the grip loosen, and realised he was falling. He flailed out wildly for anything to grasp onto. In the corner of his vision, the impaled boy tumbled from the cathedral, landing with a sickening noise on the street below.

Baljeet caught his arm and pulled up as hard as he could. For a moment, it seemed as though it would not hold, but then Buford pulled the Indian boy's leg, hoisting the two back onto the roof.

"Thank you," gasped Phineas.

"You're welcome," said Buford, taking all the credit in between pants of breath.

"It was me who did all the rescuing!" exclaimed Baljeet.

* * *

Raskolnikov looked up at the sky, which seemed to be growing ever darker. He felt slightly detached from events – there had been unbearable pain for a split second, but now there was nothing.

In the corner of his vision, the triangular head loomed into view. Bright blue eyes looked down at him, brimming with sorrow. The red-headed boy reached over and closed Raskolnikov's eyelids.

"I'm sorry," Raskolnikov tried to say to the boy. "I'm sorry father. I failed…"

The words would not come out, and everything else was black.

* * *

**This is the second chapter eight I've done in which a villain dies... hurm. Perhaps it's a pattern. I'd like to say that the spear is symbolic, but it's not, I just needed a weapon. It's more a Batman Arkham Asylum reference than anything. I don't think St John's Cathedral in Cesena has that statue, which is why I mentioned in the last chapter that it is not specifically that cathedral. I probably should say more here, but I can't think of anything. See you next time.**


	9. What Happened In Gimmelschtump

**Late again (kinda). Ah well, enjoy. This chapter is fairly disturbing - you have been warned... cheerily, of course. Thanks to Maya Serena for the title of this chapter.**

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Ferbgor looked up from the book, eyes surveying the library. The old castle creaked in the Druselstein wind, but he knew when the sounds were man-made. He grimaced and attempted to return to his book, but the noise came again, groaning down the old windows and stone walls. Sighing, he swivelled in the chair.

"What is it Raskolnikov?"

The white haired boy crouched on a windowsill high above the bookcases, arms wrapped around his legs. Ferbgor had no idea how the creature had managed to get up there, but was used to it by this point.

"Is Miss Shapiro really pregnant?" asked Raskolnikov, head tilted curiously. "Constance said something, but I didn't want to ask…"

Ferbgor grunted in annoyance and set his book aside.

"Yes, she is. Is there a problem?"

Raskolnikov scuttled down the bookcase and sat at the base, gazing up at the older man. The teenager tilted his head again.

"Is she going to move here?"

Ferbgor pretended to be occupied by placing his book back on the correct shelf in order to avoid eye contact with the boy. He scratched his chin slowly, thinking of a way to explain things to the creature. He could not think of anything.

"I… don't know," he said finally.

"Are they getting married?"

"I don't know!" snapped Ferbgor, and Raskolnikov flinched at the dislike in the man's voice.

"…well, she has been staying here lately, and Constance said that she could be my mother because I'm a monster, and…"

Ferbgor pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's for entirely different reasons. Miss Shapiro had the misfortune to witness one of those recent murders. She just needed company."

"Oh," said Raskolnikov, and his shoulders sank slightly.

Ferbgor left the library, and began to walk down the corridor before he felt a pang of guilt. He walked back into the library to see the boy still sitting slumped in the corner between bookshelves.

"Raskolnikov," Ferbgor said awkwardly, and the boy looked up. "I wouldn't worry about all of this family business. You have a family already. No matter what happens, understand?"

The creature nodded slowly, hair obscuring the confused face. Ferbgor gestured for the boy to follow him, and the two walked in silence down the corridor towards the kitchen.

* * *

_Recently, _wrote Doctor Phineastein, _I have become enthralled by the story of one Xavier Onassis over in Great Britain. This man claims to have unlocked the secret of time travel. Such a preposterous notion, and yet, one so full of potential. Onassis is young, but I feel he may have a genuine breakthrough. Although, if people start travelling through time, I fear I may run out of corpses to use in experiments – after all, who would choose to live in this day and age when you could see battling Romans or meet Socrates, or perhaps converse with the gods themselves?_

_The most recent corpse I have had to hide from Miss Shapiro. Actually, should that be Elizabeth? Thinking about that makes me uncomfortable - the future Mrs Phineastein also. Regardless, it is the body of the old man we encountered two weeks ago, the incident that frightened her into her current accommodation. Constance said that wives live with their husbands, so I fear this arrangement may continue. There have been a string of murders down in Gimmelschtump lately, with the majority of the victims being small children. However, the previously mentioned man bore the same wounds as those victims, so it seems the killer has graduated to larger prey. This is an interesting phenomenon – a 'serial' killer, if you will. Such a thing is unheard of._

_But then, Druselstein is a country where anything can happen. Where even a man such as I can become a father, even if it was not by design. Or perhaps it was of design – destiny, or merely a biological inevitability. _

_I suppose that my family has grown, if you could call it a family. Middle age seems to have mellowed Constance, but I must not tempt fate. Ferbgor seems content, but it is often hard to tell, and my creations thrive in the surrounding environment…_

_What shall I name my unborn child? The question comes to me often, and yet, it is often obscured by the question of 'why?' Why must I have a child in the first place? I feel like a criminal in admitting it, but I have no desire for an heir. Or a wife for that matter. But this is for posterity, so I am obliged to write this._

_It is a big castle, however, and I am not alone – Ferbgor, Constance and even Patient Zero will assist me in parenthood. That reminds me – Patient Zero is now going by the name Raskolnikov. A fitting name, I should think – he resembles a grotesque parody of the 'genetic superiority' nonsense._

_I can hear Constance calling me to dinner, and this seems as good a place as any to finish. _

_Victor Phineastein – doctor, vivisectionist, mortician, scientist, and soon, husband and father._

_

* * *

_

"Here I have the young son of yours, now I am done with hiding him. I've kept my words to you, now the giant has lost his life."

"What was that?" asked Robert, shivering inside his coat.

"A story," said Loki simply.

"There is little value in stories," said Eisenseite. "Other than as recollections of actual events. Your fiction is useless."

Loki merely blew cigar smoke into the carriage, the smoke coiling through his scars and straight out the window. Eisenseite grimaced in distaste. It was a short journey to the castle of Doctor Phineastein, but they were purposefully moving slowly – they would meet in the forest under the castle and launch the assault from there.

"How did you get those scars?" asked Robert, hoping for another lengthy story.

"I lost a bet to some…" Regen began, but trailed off when he saw the look Eisenseite was giving him. "I just lost a bet."

"When we get to the castle," said Eisenseite, "I want you two to take half of the men and volunteers and find those within. I will wait outside with rest to prevent any escape."

"We'll have to bring the parents of the victims with us," said Robert. "They want Phineastein dead more than us."

"Very well. It takes a man a lifetime to build up a reputation, but only seconds to destroy it. Make sure no-one escapes."

* * *

Constance dropped the food unceremoniously onto the plates, ignoring the wrinkling of noses. She rarely complained of experiments anymore, so no-one actually criticised her cooking, but that did not change the fact that it was awful. Only Raskolnikov ate quietly and happily – everyone else, including Constance, prodded at their food with their forks, presumably to make sure that it was not breathing. Elizabeth wondered the effect the food would have on her in her state.

"I'll need to visit Gimmelschtump tomorrow," said Constance. "We're running low on most things."

"We haven't been in Gimmelschtump in roughly two weeks," said Phineastein. "It would be good to stretch our legs."

"And to arrange a wedding?" Ferbgor added quietly.

Phineastein looked directly at his food and mumbled some insincere agreement. Elizabeth did not notice, or perhaps, as Ferbgor thought, she purposefully blocked it out. Constance frowned disapprovingly, and turned to her friend.

"That will be a sight, won't it? Pregnant on your wedding day… I'm sure you'll look beautiful though."

"Thanks Constance," Elizabeth said with a warm smile. "You know, if my father were here, he'd probably have a heart attack. He always wanted me to marry a Jewish boy. He always liked you though, so maybe he would have gotten over it. Right, Victor?"

"Hm?" said Phineastein, looking up.

For a moment, Ferbgor was sure that he saw an intense sadness grip Elizabeth, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"I was saying that father thought highly of you."

"Yes, yes of course," Victor muttered quickly, glad that it had not been anything of importance.

"So when will my brother be here?" Raskolnikov asked suddenly, and everyone turned to face him. Even the giant platypus lying on the floor opened an eye.

"How do you know the baby's a boy?" Constance said, a playfully sceptical tone evident in her voice.

"How do you know it's not?" Elizabeth said with a gesture of her hands. She turned back to the teenager. "A few months yet, Rodya."

"Will he be the same age as me?"

Ferbgor snorted with some amusement.

"I very much doubt that," said Elizabeth. "But you never know."

The giant platypus made a loud noise in agreement.

"Well that was…" Victor struggled to find the words. "…an interesting meal, Constance, thank you. Are we all headed to the laboratory?"

"I think I'll retire early," said Elizabeth, and once again Ferbgor noticed the curious expression on her face.

"Ugh, fine…" said Constance, resigned to witnessing the experiments she had once tried to stop.

"Capital!" Victor said happily. "Off we go."

Ferbgor remained in his seat as the others filed out of the dining room, watching the woman opposite him intently.

"You could just talk to him," he said once the others had gone.

"Ferbgor," Elizabeth sighed, "I'm happy he noticed me in the first place… It was always going to be difficult. After all, he's a genius, and I'm just… me."

Ferbgor stood up and walked around the table, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

"Don't dress me up for more than I'm worth," she said. "It's merely…"

The sound of distant shouting met their ears, and the two looked at each other in alarm. Rushing to the window in the outside corridor, they strained their eyes to locate the source of the noise.

At first, Ferbgor thought that the trees were moving in the forest below. Soon however, he began to make out limbs, and dirtied faces, and with dawning horror, firearms. The crowd was advancing slowly up the rocky path towards the castle, chanting various accusations that Ferbgor could not hear properly. At the head walked the Mayor of Gimmelschtump, pointing and directing the men. Ferbgor swore, and turned to Elizabeth, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Listen carefully…"

"Ferbgor, Victor's down…" she began, but Ferbgor shook her almost violently.

"LISTEN! You need to get out of here now. You know the passage in the kitchen, it leads out to the bottom of the gardens – take it. I'll send Raskolnikov to help you, and Victor, Constance and I will hold them off."

"But…"

"NOW!"

Ferbgor sprinted out of the room to find Phineastein, and after a moment, Elizabeth realised the sense in his words and hurried towards the kitchen, clutching her stomach awkwardly.

* * *

Bullets rattled against the castle walls, accompanied by arrows and various other projectiles. It was not a useless gesture – Eisenseite knew the psychological effect the noises would have on the occupants, and it would drown out the noise of intruders.

"Phineastein, you magnificent bastard, I read your BOOK!" yelled Loki over the yells of the crowd.

A battering ram came forth through the crowd, a hastily assembled construction barely differing from a fallen tree. Eisenseite smiled in satisfaction as the door let out a huge groan at the first impact of the battering ram. The men slipped several times in the snow, but were held up by their comrades, who surged forward against the great door. On the third strike, the door gave way at the bottom, and on the fifth, the door collapsed in on itself, and the dark interior of the castle was revealed. Regen and Robert shouted orders to the men and the crowd began to charge into the castle.

Eisenseite lit a cigar calmly, and used the match to light a trail of gunpowder along the path. The trail of powder led to cart filled with barrels pushed violently against the castle wall, the driver diving out of the way. The explosion rocked the path violently, with stone rubble raining down on Eisenseite and his men, but the Mayor of Gimmelschtump did not flinch.

"What now sir?" asked one of the men.

Eisenseite did not reply for some time, and stared into the flames that spread along the base of the wall. The explosion had been ineffective, but he had suspected it would be – it was just a small detail intended to frighten Phineastein even more.

"You all wait here. Kill any who try to escape."

"Where are you going?"

"The gardens," growled Eisenseite, and walked away.

* * *

Ferbgor burst into the laboratory, and Victor shot towards him, grabbing the other man desperately. The blinking of the various machines in the room quickened, seemingly echoing the distress.

"Where is she?" Victor shouted, looking hysterical.

Constance and Raskolnikov paled as well, looking for Elizabeth to come round the corner at any moment. Ferbgor took Victor's hands off of his shoulders, and addressed all three of them.

"The attackers are coming from Gimmelschtump, up the path, so we have a bit of time. Elizabeth has taken the escape route from the kitchens, so we'll hold them off here. Raskolnikov – go to Elizabeth and make sure she gets out."

Victor stood in numb shock as Raskolnikov darted past him, towards the stairs leading back up into the castle. A sudden tremor shook the castle, knocking the teenager off of his feet. Constance ran to his aide as Victor and Ferbgor stumbled violently. Behind them, one of the machines shattered and ignited, flames engulfing it rapidly.

The giant platypus roared in pain as crossbow bolts whizzed through the laboratory and into its hind legs.

"I dedicate this kill to Odin," muttered Regen as the crowd tore into the laboratory, shouting and screaming.

There were around thirty intruders, all of whom immediately recognised Phineastein, running the length of the room. Ferbgor growled and reached for his gun, pulling Victor behind a desk. The scientist was shaking terribly, and did not seem to be aware of his surroundings.

Loki ran along the burning machines, leaping from a wall for momentum, and landed on the giant animal's back. Twin knives struck accurately through the giant platypus, which roared and flailed violently into the crowd, killing several and splitting the attackers.

Constance went largely unnoticed by the intruders as she attempted to shake Raskolnikov awake. However, she heard the sound of a gun clicking behind her. Constance may have mellowed with middle age, but she was still extremely paranoid – in the blink of an eye she reached for, grabbed and threw a scalpel with deadly accuracy. As the man gurgled and spluttered to the ground behind her, Raskolnikov snapped awake, and shot for the other intruders, tearing at throats faster than anyone could react.

Ferbgor rose from behind cover and shot at the men who had managed to cross the room, one of whom dropped like a stone. Ferbgor yelled angrily as a shot rang out in retaliation, and his shoulder cracked with pain. However, the giant platypus crashed back into the crowd in its throes, protecting Ferbgor from further harm, and throwing Loki into the wall behind them.

Loki rose quickly before Phineastein, gripping some kind of lance or spear that Victor could not recognise. Ferbgor crashed into the blonde man quickly, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. Loki grinned through his scarred mouth, and managed to pull a third knife from his sleeve, slashing wildly at Ferbgor, who seized it and turned it on its owner in the struggle, pressing it against Regen's neck.

Everyone took cover as another explosion ripped through the room, as yet another machine caught fire. This time however, the roof cracked considerably, and a huge section of the wall was blown out onto the hillside. In the ensuing chaos, Victor darted for the opening, leaping out into space. The fall nearly dislocated his legs, and he could hear people yelling after him, but he kept running.

"Victor!" screamed Ferbgor, and sprinted after the doctor. Constance and Raskolnikov sprinted through the mass of people seeking cover and also shot out onto the hillside.

Behind them, the rest of the machines exploded, and fir billowed out from the hole in the castle. Ferbgor, Constance and Raskolnikov stumbled and staggered down the rocky face as the giant platypus charged into the open, sliding down the hillside and whimpering pitiably. Upon landing, Ferbgor saw the rest of the mob in the distance, and continued to run after Phineastein into the dark woods that encircled their castle. The small group ran after the scientist, maddened by the chaos.

Phineastein kept running. Through the woods, through the dark, he ran, tears streaming down his face, sheer panic keeping him going.

* * *

Elizabeth gasped through the blood. The pain was unbearable, but not physically. She was clutching at her arm that the bullet had passed through mere seconds ago, but all she could think of was her child, which she could feel writhing inside her. She tried to keep going, but collapsed in the snow, beneath one of the great garden hedges.

The man who had fired the shot trudged slowly towards her, reloading his pistol. She felt his boot on the back of her neck. She mumbled something inaudible.

"Was that a prayer?" Eisenseite chuckled. "Or perhaps a desperate plea to your lover to come to your aide?"

He pulled her head back and up, so that she stood level with him.

"What did you say?"

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and snarled through the pain.

"…away… back to hell with you…"

Eisenseite smirked.

"Amusing."

The gunshot rang out, and blood spread across the Druselstein snow. Eisenseite trudged away, towards the smoking castle.

* * *

**Told you... Thanks for reading. Interestingly, this is the second chapter nine I've written that contains exploding machines. I fear I may have disturbed you all, so I don't have much to say here. However, I do think this chapter sets Phineastein up quite nicely for his role as a villian, and shows that he's not quite as nice as assumed - he's sort of atoning. Until next time.**


	10. Fearful Symmetry

**I must apologise for the delay. Events conspired against the chapter's arrival. Nevertheless, enjoy!**

* * *

The thing lying on Leonardo's table no longer looked remotely human. Its face was twisted and elongated, and the joints seemed backwards and wrong. Leonardo looked at it with a great deal of interest, prodding at it with a scalpel. Behind him, he heard Machiavelli shuffling through notes that might explain the anomaly, but to no avail – the creature, whatever it was, defied definition.

"It could be some sort of demon…" Leonardo suggested with a shrug.

Machiavelli snorted with laughter.

"There's no way to say that without sounding stupid," he said.

"Burn it," Buford said bluntly. "Could be witchcraft."

"I did the actual slaying," Baljeet protested. "If anyone decides what happens to it, it should be me!"

"What should we do then?" asked Isabella.

"I… do not know."

Phineas edged closer to the table, and had the horrible feeling that the creature was watching him. Its cold blue eyes remained open in death, staring directly into his own, causing him to feel a great deal of pity. He had not really seen a dead body before – he had heard the aftermath of Ironside's, and he had visited Thomas' grave once with Ferb, but that was as far as his experiences went on the subject. The corpse smelled like something that had been left out in the sun for too long.

He reached out and closed the eyes – the second time he had done so. Leonardo had opened them for examination, but he seemed to understand, and did not press the matter. The sound of Ferb hobbling around on crutches snapped Phineas out of his trance.

"I want to bury him," the red-head said suddenly.

Ferb twitched. Graveyards and burials were for people, not animals, and although he liked and related to animals better than he did with humans, the thought annoyed him. The others seemed somewhat indifferent to the matter, so he spoke aloud.

"No. Look at it. Can't bury that thing…"

Phineas looked at his brother, frowning.

"Why not? I don't see why he can't be buried like a normal person."

"It's not a person," said Ferb, unsure where his dissent was coming from. "Besides, it attacked you. Surely…"

"I can think of another thing that attacked us, something barely human," Isabella said quietly. "And you buried him."

For a moment, Ferb looked extremely angry, and made as if to say something. Isabella looked away guiltily, and he let it go. He turned towards Leonardo.

"Do you feel comfortable with this?"

"I think," said Leonardo slowly, "The time will come when people such as I will look upon the murder of animals as they now look upon the murder of human beings."

He covered Raskolnikov's body with a white sheet, before continuing. Baljeet whistled and shuffle out of the room, under the impression that he was being blamed for something.

"So, yes, if Phineas wants to, we'll bury him in a graveyard."

The priests were happy to oblige the sad-looking boy who asked them to find a space for a 'friend', and Raskolnikov's funeral was able to be held the next day. Of course, the priests assumed the friend in question was human, but Phineas appreciated their help regardless. The small coffin was carried by Phineas, Isabella, Baljeet and Buford, with Buford's strength eliminating the need for two more pall-bearers. Leonardo went out of his way to actually pay for a grave, as apparently the plague doctors were fond of just dumping corpses in ditches.

The cemetery was a short distance out of Cesena, and they made the journey in silence, with only Isabella appreciating the presence of horses. When they arrived, the casket was pulled out of the carriage and carried across muddy ground. Raskolnikov was buried in silence, with even the priest sensing the strange mood coming from the red-haired boy. The tombstone was fully revealed when the burial was complete, bluntly stating 'UNKNOWN'. Leonardo had said that this was almost unprecedented.

The others filed back down the path, with only Phineas staying, staring numbly at the tombstone. Painful memories ran through his head.

"…_it won't change anything. It's still a horrible existence. Where people kill, steal and mutilate for no reason at all. I was going to control it from the source__…"_

"…_Please… you wouldn't leave me to die…"_

"_It's wrong, is it? That's all you can come up with? I don't care about your crappy moral subtleties. If I stopped all this, what would I return to exactly?"_

"_Father?"_

"Phineas?" Isabella was behind him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay…"

It took him a moment to register that he was crying. A shaking hand reached out to meet the one on his shoulder.

"Is this it, Isabella? Is this all it comes down to? An unmarked grave, everything you were gone, forgotten by everyone? This… boy… he must have had dreams, family, loved ones, someone who's wondering where he is or why he didn't come home… And we looked, I asked people, but no-one knew who he was… I don't even know why he attacked me to begin with!"

His shoulders were gripped tightly, and Isabella spun him around to face her. Phineas stared at her in shock before she hugged him fiercely; cutting him off before he could speak.

"This isn't you, Phineas," she whispered in his ear. "What happened to keep moving forward? You sound like a college student who's just discovered Nietzsche, and it needs to stop. What happened to the old Phineas Flynn?"

_He died with me,_ said Ironside's voice in Phineas' head.

"I…" said Phineas, choking back a sob. "I'm sorry, Isabella. It just… got to me, for a moment. I'm fine…"

The two stood there hugging for a long time before it occurred to Phineas to thank his friend.

* * *

It was Raskolnikov who discovered her, in the cold morning as the flames still flickered slightly from within the castle. The teenager tried to wake her up at first, unable to understand. No-one had explained this to him before.

"Mother?" he asked, shaking her slightly. "We got out. All the men are gone."

He turned his head to the sounds of approaching feet, at first walking, then running through the snow. Someone was shouting. Constance was the first there, absolute terror still etched on her face. Raskolnikov could not understand why she looked so distressed – the fighting had all stopped.

"Mother won't wake up," he said, and yelped in shock as Constance unceremoniously shoved him aside.

Constance lifted Elizabeth's head off the snow, and moved the body into a lying position. She listened intently for some sort of heartbeat or breath. She could not find one. She froze. She could not find any – and there should have been two heartbeats. She bowed her head and stared at her friend's pale face, unable to move or say anything.

Ferbgor supported Victor as the two approached, both growing increasingly pale. At first, Victor thought that Constance had collapsed. As they drew closer, he began to see the outline of a shape in Constance's arms. Something cold ran through his body, and into his head. He did not feel well – it felt like his brain was squirming. It pounded against the walls of his skull as Ferbgor seemingly dragged him forward.

_Not in there…_he thought._ I can't go there._

He could see the blood, and although it had long since dried, he imagined it reaching across to him, enveloping his feet and travelling the course of his body. It covered his eyes as he hit the snow with a gasp of pain, the wet ice particles mixing with the thick blood.

"Elizabeth…" he whispered.

"…your fault…" said Constance quietly, and Phineastein opened his eyes, aware of his surroundings.

"No, I… son… mother…" he struggled, the cold seeping through his clothes.

"This is your fault," Constance said coldly, rising.

Ferbgor looked at the two figures, eyes watering. Raskolnikov hovered behind, completely confused.

"VICTOR!" Constance screamed, and before Phineastein could react, a vicious kick to the chin sent him sprawling.

He looked up at the sky, more aware than ever of the damp chill infecting his existence. Constance grabbed him and hoisted him to his feet, striking him several times. Blood seeped from his mouth and nose, but all he could feel was the ice water running down his spine.

"This is entirely your fault!" she shrieked, tears running down her cheeks. She punctuated each word with a slap or punch that Victor could not feel.

Constance flinched as something caught her fist. Ferbgor gazed at her pityingly, standing up for his friend. Constance pulled her arm away and stepped back, looking from Ferbgor to Phineastein and back again.

"Get away from me," she said slowly, and then her tone became angrier. "I never want to see you again."

With that, she stormed away from the group, throat hoarse and dry as tears continued to stream down her face. The last time she saw them, Victor had collapsed into the snow again and Ferbgor was staring numbly at the castle. She stormed off with no sense of direction, wandering into the woods, wanting to be alone, anywhere. The smell of smoke reached her nostrils.

"…because if I use them directly, the Allfather can find me! Have you been listening?"

"Not really…"

She came to a clearing, where a blonde man was arguing wildly with his fat companion, jabbing his cigar into the air as he made his points. The two men noticed her almost immediately. Both looked extremely tired and stressed, dark bags visible under their eyes. She recognised both of them, and made to attack.

"Don't," sighed Loki. "Knowledge of what we've done is enough."

"What you've done," repeated Constance. "Murderers! You killed a pregnant woman!"

"Eisenseite did," said Robert.

"You killed a man," noted Loki, his green eyes watering. "His daughter had been killed. His widow has lost all of her family in less than a week. Far as I see it, we're all in the same boat."

"So what then?" Constance said, through a stifled sob. "Go after Eisenseite?"

Loki began to walk through the woods, towards Gimmelschtump. Constance and Robert fell in step, listening to the Englishman.

"I hate this country," he said. "It's not Eisenseite, it's the whole damn town. Every single one of them, for one reason or another, listened to something they didn't fully understand. Ragnarok would struggle to wipe out this burg. There's a ship leaving in a day for London. I'll be on it, if I don't kill myself. I expect you two will do the same."

* * *

Victor crawled through the snow, back towards Elizabeth's body. Her head was tilted backwards, blank eyes staring through him. He lifted the small head in his arms, feelings he could not recognise or define rushing through his head. He could hear Raskolnikov whimpering somewhere and Ferbgor shuffling around in shocked silence, but they did not matter. The head rolled in his arms, and he lowered his own, resting it on her shoulder. Her hair brushed against his face, causing an irritation he would have laughed off under any other circumstance. But now, it gave him some sort of comfort. If he could just continue in the black calm of her hair, he could…

_No_, he thought. _I can't_.

The situation was at once absurd and completely logical. His hand traced over the ragged exit wound in her stomach. With a shiver and a low moan, Doctor Phineastein closed his eyes and kissed his wife one last time. When he looked up, he was no longer the same man.

"I can fix this," he said, rising to his feet. He turned to Ferbgor. "We can fix this."

"We can give the dead life," Ferbgor admitted hopefully.

"No," Victor shook his head. "And look at some shuffling corpse for the rest of my life? End up with another… him?"

He pointed at Raskolnikov.

"Is this all it comes down to Ferbgor? Nothing but blood and tears and snow, leaving as much impression as the microbes swarming and multiplying in a glass of water? I can't accept it…"

"Father…" Raskolnikov began, but Victor ignored him, stepping over the corpse and stroking his beard, in the grips of a plan.

"Quiet… listen? Can you hear it? Destiny's a funny thing… Nothing matters, you see. At least, not now. Not in this destiny. Not in this sequence of events. I choose a new one. Ha! A man makes his own destiny! I'll change things, not as they are, but as they were! I forfeit my life in this world for one in the next… I will not rest, I will not falter until this is amended. After all, what is the cost if the price doesn't matter?"

* * *

"Ready to go?" Phineas asked his brother.

Ferb nodded, wobbling on his crutches slightly as he pushed Silent Bob's cage onto one of the seats. The rodent squeaked happily and ran around in circles for a moment before resuming its usual routine – sleeping. Ferb took the power source from Phineas and forced it into place on the top of the machine, which whirred into life.

"Amazing," Leonardo said, removing his hat in awe.

"Really? Common sight round our parts," Buford said with a smirk.

"I guess this is goodbye," Phineas lamented, holding out his hand. "For now, at least. I'll have to repay your kindness one day."

Leonardo laughed and shook Phineas' hand warmly.

"If you wish. But if I were you, I'd be seeing the world, and all the opportunities that come with it… So much power… Goodbye, Phineas Flynn. You are all welcome here, anytime."

Phineas beamed and turned back towards the time machine, taking his position at the head, waiting for Ferb to pull the lever. Isabella, Baljeet and Buford said their goodbyes to Leonardo and Machiavelli, before joining Phineas. Ferb showed his gratitude to Leonardo, before approaching Machiavelli.

"Goodbye then," said the English boy.

"Ah, yes, social conformity," Machiavelli stated. "I believe that you will be missed, then, if that is how I am to respond."

Ferb shrugged, equally awkward. Machiavelli suddenly remembered something, and crouched down beside the boy, pulling something from his pocket. The remnants of some sort of steel orb rested in his palm.

"That creature had it on its person when it died," he said in a low voice. "Perhaps there is someone behind it – look for any leads… and… try not die, okay? You're not that bad a kid."

Ferb laughed and nodded, clapping Machiavelli on the back. The green-haired boy hobbled over and took his seat at the lever, awaiting Phineas' instructions. Baljeet voiced his concern.

"How are we going to fix this? It is still the time travel equivalent of Russian Roulette."

"We'll need to look for parts, I suppose," said Isabella.

"I doubt there will be useable technology until the eighteen hundreds or so," Ferb mused. Inwardly, he realised that the source of their troubles would be emanating from that time period too, or at least after it.

Phineas shrugged and looked at Isabella.

"Keep moving forward, right? Ferb, if you'd be so kind…"

The machine whooshed and flashed upon the pulling of the lever, fading in and out of existence in a way the children had all grown profoundly used to. The group waved to Leonardo and Machiavelli, who watched in amazement as their guests disappeared completely, leaving an empty study behind them.

"I think I have something in my eye…" Machiavelli grumbled.

"Nice kids, I'll admit…" Leonardo began.

"LEONARDO! MACHIAVELLI! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING! WHERE ARE MY MACHINES OF WAAAAAAAAAAR! YOU SPENT HALF OF THE BUDGET ON MEDICAL CARE AND A BLOODY FUNERAL!"

"Someday," said Machiavelli, "I'm going to write a comedy about that twat."

"Be careful," laughed Leonardo. "Make sure it comes off as satire – you wouldn't want someone to take it seriously."

* * *

Mary leaned against the wall, catching her breath for a moment. The smell could get to a person sometimes, regardless of how long they had lived in London. Even in the poorest areas, of which Whitechapel could certainly count as, people sometimes realised the squalor and had to stop. She was outside of her lodgings, but she was sure that she had lost the key at some point. She searched her scuffed and dirty clothes for it, but it was nowhere to be found.

She looked up at the night sky suddenly – in her peripheral vision, she had seen a flash of light. Her eyes scanned the darkness above, eventually spotting the source again. Every so often, a purple light would flash across the sky. She had heard of the Northern Lights, but was unsure if that was the cause of the phenomenon.

Mary did not hear him approach.

"Funny sort of night, eh?" he said. His voice was soothing, devoid of any identifiable class accent. He could have been rich or poor – she could not tell.

"You've noticed it too?"

"It's… something, I'll give you that," he said.

"Promise not to laugh?" she asked, feeling that he was trustworthy.

"Why would I laugh at you?"

"Sometimes," she said, shivering in the fog. "Sometimes I think there's something in those lights… Something powerful… and beautiful…"

"I believe you," he said honestly. He raised a key. "This yours? I found it."

"Thank you," Mary said gratefully, taking the key. "That's luck for you!"

"Indeed."

Sure enough, the key clicked in the lock, and her door swung open to the tiny accommodation. She paused before entering, turning to face him.

"You looking for anything in particular?" she asked, voice weary as she remembered her obligations.

"How much?"

"Not a lot. You are the last customer of the day, after all."

"I tend to be," he said, and went inside.

* * *

**Yeesh, grim ending for a chapter... although, not as much as the last one. YMMV, of course, depending on how much you know about the case. Phineas' cracks are beginning to show here, or are on full display - 'foreshadowing,' says Captain Obvious. Once again, sorry for the lateness, I'd like to say something else, but I'm in a rush, so see you next time.**


	11. Streets of London

**Hey, I'm back. By the way, I will be unable to reply to reviews and PMs and such until Wednesday. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Soon… the hour will be at hand. I can hear the angels calling my name… a choir of wretches and eunuchs! Are you a believer, my pretty girl?"

Once, a scream rang out. It went unnoticed by the people who walked the streets outside. He began his work.

* * *

The whooshing noise echoed down the dark streets of London. Those who were awake in the early hours paid no attention to it – save for one boy, lounging against a wall in Dorset Street. He removed his hat and rubbed his eyes in fascination as what appeared to be a chariot materialised slowly before him. The children who sat in the chariot did not seem interested in him, and appeared to be in mid-conversation.

"…heard about the Grandfather Paradox?" the girl was saying.

"Is John Hurt in it?" asked a large boy in the backseat.

"It is not a film," said a boy of seemingly Indian origin impatiently. "It is a problem circulating around altering the past."

"It's, uh, if you alter the past, say you kill or cause the death of your grandfather," said a red haired boy distractedly. "Would you cease to exist, or would it be impossible to actually see the action through?"

"Oh right," said the girl. "So, no-one knows."

The only occupant who had not spoken – a tall, serious looking boy with green hair – hobbled out of the machine on long wooden crutches, which sounded like hooves on the cobbles. The green haired boy cast his gaze along the dirty, dark street. Seeing a church spire in the distance, his eyes filled with recognition.

"Whitechapel," said Ferb.

"You know it?" asked Buford.

"You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy," Ferb replied grimly. "We must be cautious."

The boy who sat against the wall frowned at that – the newcomers acted as if materialising in the dead of night was an everyday occurrence. He couched loudly and made eye contact with the green haired boy.

"A local, eh?" he said. "Or at least, local enough to know Whitechapel is not a good place to be. Although, for some, it can be even worse."

Ferb extended a hand.

"Ferb Fletcher."

"Alexander. Alexander Crowley."

Buford hummed a bass line behind them. Phineas stepped out and shook Alexander's hand as well, and the others followed suit. Crowley continued to eye them intently as he heard their names.

"So… we have a native Englander – from Southwark, if I'm not mistaken, three Americans, one of whom appears to be of Spanish-Jewish origin, and a boy from the farthest reaches of the Empire. Ragtag bunch. Here for the show? Or do you have other things in mind?"

"We're just tourists, really," said Phineas.

"Tourists in Whitechapel? That's only sprung up recently."

"Why do you make fun of where you live?" asked Isabella.

Crowley laughed.

"I don't live here! I'm a tourist, like you. Well, that and a customer to certain women of the streets. And occasionally men, I'm not particular."

"How old are you?" Isabella's voice was a mix of shock and horrified fascination.

"Fourteen," Crowley said cheerfully, and looked Isabella up and down thoughtfully. "How old are you?"

Isabella went very red and Phineas interrupted hastily.

"Not old enough."

Alexander Crowley let out a short burst of laughter that sounded like a particularly hoarse car engine. From beside him, he pulled out a short wooden box, which he placed before him like a desk, resting his hands on top. He raised an eyebrow at Ferb, who sat down opposite him, taking care to avoid what he hoped was a large pile of mud on the pavement.

"You seem like the most sensible one here," said Alexander. "Do you know what's going on? At all?"

"Wait, what's going on?" Buford interrupted.

"Buford," snapped Baljeet. "We are about to find out, if you had listened. You are like a child who wanders into a film and demands to know what is…"

"Quiet please!" Isabella said, holding the bridge of her nose. "Take your marital distress somewhere else."

Crowley stifled a laugh and nodded in a mocking representation of a wise sage. Reaching into his blazer, he pulled out a short bottle of whisky. He offered it to Buford, who took it happily, before Baljeet snatched it away.

"Buford! Since when do we accept gifts from strangers?" He placed the bottle inside his coat. "Neither of you should have this. I'm confiscating it until further notice!"

"Why don't you two go sight-seeing or something?" Phineas said diplomatically.

After a moment of bickering, the duo agreed, heading down the street and pointing at the church in the distance. Crowley looked around in confusion – the others seemed to have forgotten him amidst Baljeet and Buford's quarrel.

"Ahem."

"Oh yeah," said Phineas and Isabella simultaneously.

Crowley smiled and began to speak.

"While I have frequented the somewhat seedier areas of London, the reason I am in this street, at this ungodly hour of the morning, is due to Leather Apron. I'm assuming you've heard of him?"

Phineas and Isabella shook their heads, but Ferb nodded slowly. Across the street, a homeless man staggered past and shouted something unintelligible at the group. Apparently the babel fish was unable to translate cockney.

"The Whitechapel Murderer? Saucy Jack? The Ripper? No?" Crowley scratched his head, perplexed. "You must have unconscious for the past few months. Alright, recently, certain women of leisure, let's say seamstresses, have been… killed is putting it lightly. Britain's all in an uproar, and the police are useless in their attempts to catch the killer. The second victim, Annie Chapman, was seen on this street before her slaughter, and her body was found in a garden in Hanbury Street. The killer's been taunting the police with several letters, although I confess that some may be forged."

While finding the details scary, the children were nonetheless children, and listened intently to the dark story Crowley spun.

"I can feel something about this street," explained Alexander. "Perhaps I shall sight Leather Apron himself. Perhaps I already have."

Phineas shivered slightly, at once terrified and fascinated by the grim mystery of the murders. Ferb coughed slightly, as Crowley appeared to be finished.

"Why do you carry this box around?"

Crowley tapped the side of the small crate knowingly. He reached inside it, and paused with a wicked smile on his face. Although Ferb was at least a metre away from the other boy, it felt as if Alexander were within his personal space – his stare was both hypnotic and somehow unclean. Ferb made a mental note to let Phineas approach the next stranger they met.

"What if I told you," said Crowley in a hushed tone, "That I can grant you a glimpse of your future?"

From within the box, he withdrew his hand. A familiar purple glow pulsated, and several passersby noted the brief flash of light that ran across the street. It dulled however, and Crowley leaned forward.

"This item is unbelievably powerful. It almost makes one believe in magick."

"Don't you mean magic?" asked Isabella.

"Magick," stressed Crowley.

"Where did you get this?" Ferb growled. The sudden aggression in the previously calm boy caused Crowley to speak truthfully.

"Some women gave it to me! They had just found it or something, and they were passing through!"

"Ferb?" asked Phineas. "What's wrong? There's been one of these everywhere we go. Is this part of your theory?"

"What theory?" asked Isabella.

"Ferb thinks that someone was behind all the problems with the time machine."

"I suppose that's quite a good assumption," said Isabella unexpectedly. "You should always prepare for the worst, and given our track record…"

There was shouting coming from another street, but after a while it died away. Ferb shook his head suddenly, aware that he was being extremely paranoid. Crowley still looked taken aback, and decided that he had severely misjudged the newcomers. Ferb muttered an apology and the other boy calmed down somewhat.

"Are you sure we didn't bring jackets?" Isabella said. "Maybe at the bottom of the storage or something…"

Crowley tossed her his school blazer and she mumbled her thanks. For Phineas, this only raised further questions.

"How long have you been out here?"

"A while," the boy chuckled. "I obviously have no intention of actually attending school today, despite my current attire."

"What is the date today?" Phineas asked suddenly.

"It's the ninth, I think. Yes, November the ninth. Eighteen-eighty-eight, but I'm guessing you already know that."

Further down the street, two small girls had emerged, obviously ready for a long walk to their school. Phineas found it rather special that they treated their surroundings with the same manner he had in Danville. The decaying Whitechapel was their home, and no matter what, they seemed to love it. The two girls skipped away down the road, singing some sort of skipping rhyme as they departed.

"Just you wait a little while, soon the man in black will come, and with his little chopper, he will chop you up!"

* * *

As Baljeet and Buford had walked down Dorset Street, they continued their small snaps and disagreements without malice – arguing was one of their preferred methods of conversation. Sidestepping a suspiciously soft part of the cobbles, Baljeet was still lecturing his large companion.

"I can not believe you would just accept alcohol, from a stranger no less! What age are you?"

"About…" began Buford, but Baljeet cut him off.

"That was rhetorical! While we are at it, why should we not accept strange gifts from all of the others we have met, regardless of how insane they were?"

"We did. Caligula gave Ferb a dagger, and the detective gave Phineas a gun. Sawney Bean gave us rope burn."

Baljeet laughed a little at the last one, and forgot what he had been yelling about for the past five minutes. A drunken man shouted at them from the other side of the street, saying something about a leather apron, and Baljeet had to prevent Buford from trying to attack the man.

"Buford, enough. He is, as they say, not worth it. Let us go to look at churches again or something. Look, there is one in the distance."

Buford grumbled, but secretly felt rather pleased – although he would not admit it, he actually rather enjoyed sightseeing now, if only because the last time they had fought some sort of monster on a church roof.

"Fine. What's up with Dinner Bell, by the way?"

"Phineas?" asked Baljeet. "I do not know. All I can say is that he is not himself. Perhaps he has hit puberty."

"What, so he's gonna start with moods and a voice that goes up and down?"

"Well, yes, but I was going to say he will start showing an interest in females of the species. Likely Isabella."

Buford snorted contemptuously.

"You won't see me wastin' time like that."

Baljeet raised an eyebrow.

"Believe me Buford, hundreds of shippers just punched the air."

Buford did not reply, and instead had stopped at what Baljeet had previously thought to be an alleyway. It cut of from Dorset Street and seemingly led straight into the dark. Buford began to walk towards it.

"Where are you going?"

"Shortcut," insisted Buford. "These English streets are all alike, this'll just lead us onto the next street."

Baljeet was about to argue, but Buford raised a fist threateningly, so the Indian boy merely sighed and shrugged.

"If you say so, but you will probably cause us more trouble."

Before he entered, Baljeet looked up at an arch over the path. 'Miller's Court' read the inscription.

Miller's Court was seemingly just lodging houses, all tightly packed against one another, blocking out what light there already was. Small trees had been planted in the gardens that lead into one another, in a failed attempt to make the area look nice. The place gave Baljeet and Buford an instinctively bad feeling.

"I do not think this goes anywhere," Baljeet said.

"Of course it does," insisted Buford.

There was a long pause.

"I don't think this goes anywhere," said Buford.

"Thought so," said Baljeet with a smirk.

"Let's ask for directions," grunted Buford, charging up towards one of the lodging houses.

"People are asleep Buford!"

"Nah, this one has a light on, they're probably getting ready for work."

Before Buford could even knock on the door, the handle turned slowly. Whoever it was inside had heard them. The door opened inwards, and he stood before them. The two boys could not see into the house, save for the orange glow of a fire. He looked at both of the boys, something like recognition stirring in his eyes, before stepping out onto the mix of grass and old cobble.

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Baljeet and Buford were frozen in place, looking up the newcomer. It took Baljeet moment to recognise what was wrong with the man, or at least, what did not seem right – the man was wearing a butcher's apron just underneath his clothes, and what was presumably pig's blood dripped from the bottom. The man was carrying some sort of doctor's bag that clinked heavily when it moved, tools clashing against one another.

He did not speak, and eventually decided to ignore the boys, and walked out of Miller's Court quietly. Baljeet and Buford watched him go in a form of terrified awe. Slowly, the boys came to their senses and Buford shook his head.

"What a creep," Buford grunted. "Idiot though, he left the door open."

"Do not take what is not…" Baljeet began but then he saw the interior of the house.

He saw what was lying on the bed.

His shouts of 'murder' echoed around the streets of London, but it was Whitechapel, and no-one batted an eye.

* * *

He hoisted his tool bag over one shoulder as he emerged onto Dorset Street. The boys behind him were doubtless too traumatised to move. When they found Mary, they would probably become violently sick or faint. None of this bothered him. They had seen him, but it no longer mattered.

He was ready to become ascendant.

It began after the first – as Mary Ann Nichols lay on a cold slab in a mortuary, Leather Apron had chanced upon a young boy in the street, who was charging strangers for their fortune. When he had glanced into his, he had witnessed a chariot of angels rising to take him to glory. Obviously, if he was to attain this heavenly future, the pentagram had to be completed. And now, with five on the list, his work was complete.

Something caused him to stop, and he pressed against the wall so that he would not be seen. The chariot was there waiting for him. The angels stood around, talking to the boy who could reveal the future. Leather Apron focused on the angel who had taken the form of a young girl. Of course, he thought, the ritual would have to be completed with the sacrifice of the pure. Otherwise, it would lose its power. It made so much sense.

* * *

Phineas shivered and looked around, slightly bored. Crowley and Ferb were currently engaged in a chess game, another item that Crowley had pulled out of his crate. Ferb though carefully about each move, but Crowley was always five steps ahead, and always saying something obscene and distracting, as if he did not have to concentrate fully. About halfway through, Ferb was forced to reassess his opinion of himself as a chess player. His only previous opponent had been Thomas Rains, who had been flat out awful at it. Ferb now realised that the ineptitude of the opponent does not necessarily make you a good player.

"Checkmate," said Crowley, laughing slightly. "I would stick to your day job."

Isabella sat against the time machine, picking at her teeth absent-mindedly. She did not hear him approach.

"What is a girl like you doing around these parts?" His voice was soothing.

"Just sight-seeing really. I'm Isabella. What's your name?"

Inside his left sleeve, he readied his knife. It would be the same as the others, to preserve the ritual. Left-to-right, and then right-to-left, and she would be dead before she hit the ground.

Phineas turned his head lazily. Isabella was talking to someone, so he did not want to interrupt. He sat on the edge of the time machine, frowning slightly.

"I get quite a lot of names these days," said Leather Apron, and dropped the knife silently into his palm, letting it rest between his ring and middle fingers.

"RUN!" came Baljeet's warning. "MURDER!"

Leather Apron turned in alarm as the knife became visible to everyone. Ferb moved quicker than everyone, despite his impairment, and a crutch slammed into the attacker's head, sending him staggering into the road. Isabella and Phineas stood numbly for a moment, before Baljeet and Buford reached them.

"We have to get out of here now!" Buford yelled, his eyes wide with panic.

The group obeyed instinctively, running towards the machine and jumping in as Leather Apron clutched his head in pain. Crowley looked from the machine, to the murderer to his crystal.

"I think you're more trouble than you're worth," he muttered, and threw the crystal away. Without a backwards glance, Alexander Crowley bolted out of Dorset Street, out of Whitechapel and straight home, and did not stop until he did.

"Pull the lever now!" Phineas shouted desperately.

The familiar whooshing sounds came in, and the children looked relieved as Whitechapel began to fade. And then Leather Apron landed on the front of the time machine.

"No! I have delivered it!" the man screamed, and his knife was out in an instant as he bore down on the children as they entered the vortex.

The murderer swung the knife wildly at Isabella, who managed to move in her seat and deliver a kick to the man's face. Ferb's crutches repeatedly cracked against Leather Apron, but he was so determined that they seemed to glance off harmlessly.

"The bottle!" yelled Buford.

"Now is not the time to…" Baljeet began to shout, and then understood. "Here!"

"Hey Aqualung!" Buford yelled as he caught the bottle of whisky and without a moments hesitation, swung it full-force into the attacker's face.

The bottle shattered and cut through flesh, and a terrible scream rang out. For one terrible moment, the Whitechapel Murderer stayed level with the tie machine, and then with a scream, plunged into the twists and waves of the time vortex.

Everyone took time to catch their breath, before Isabella suddenly hugged Buford.

"As much as I hate being the damsel," she said, "I think you just saved my life Buford."

"I do it all the time."

Something crashed into the back of the time machine, and Phineas shot up in alarm.

"He's back!" he yelled, but looking over the hull realised there was nothing.

However, the time machine had stopped in its journey, hovering dangerously over time itself. Slowly, it began to move backwards.

"I knew it," said Ferb.

"_Ferbgor, we've done it! It is accomplished!" _

* * *

**Ahem, thanks for reading, I have a kinda big note here.**

**The presence of Aleister Crowley is a reference to Alan Moore's brilliant but very Squick-y Ripper book 'From Hell', in which Crowley appears in a crowd in one scene and lectures the police on 'magick'. Plus, I wanted some sort of historical figure rather than an OC. Alexander's (he would change his name later) reference to both avoiding school and attending known prostitution areas is true, but as far as I'm aware, he was never on Dorset Street.**

**Jack the Ripper is referred to as 'Leather Apron' here for several reasons. One, it was a genuine name for him, after a bootmaker known as Leather Apron was arrested after the first two murders. The man was innocent, and was released, but Leather Apron stuck as one of the names for the killer. The second reason is that I feel 'Jack the Ripper' has lost all of its impact, and detracts from what was genuinely terrifying. Mary Kelly was killed at 13 Miller's Court, and afterwards, the murders apparently stopped. Obviously Jack was never identified - the surgical tools are a reference to Dr William Gull, who conspiracy theorists place as Jack, but Gull did not have a beard. I felt that ultimately, Jack's identity doesn't matter. There was some good that came out of the murders, strange as it may seem - the conditions faced by the women lead to pushes for social reform. George Bernard Shaw joked: ****_"Whilst we conventional Social Democrats were wasting our time on education, agitation and organisation, some independent genius has taken the matter in hand, and by simply murdering and disembowelling ... women, converted the proprietary press to an inept sort of communism."_ Until next time.**


	12. Tempus Frangit

**Hello again! Please, don't mind me. Read on...**

* * *

Nikola Tesla and Alphonse Moreau shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot as Phineastein paced before them, the Druselstein native's eyes heavily drooping from tiredness and laudanum consumption. Ferbgor leaned against the wall, reading a book while planning his usual escape routes and possible cover. Moreau gestured to one of the men behind him.

"Much more advanced than the previous attempts, and I do believe, closer to your… Raskolnikov, as you call him."

"Raskolnikov is dead," Phineastein said lazily, bright blue eyes snapping into contact with Moreau's.

"You don't know that sir," Ferbgor began, but Phineastein held up a hand.

"If he was alive, he would have arrived shortly after he departed. It's been three days. It's time for Jörmungandr. Mister Tesla, how is it coming along?"

"The necessary amplifications have been made," said Tesla in an unsettling monotone. "Onassis' technology escapes my understanding, but I have done my best to keep to your specifics. It should be ready."

"Good," Victor's voice was faraway, lost in his drug-induced stupor. "We'll begin…"

Tesla cut him off, something close to concern audible in his voice.

"I urge you not to use it. Nothing good can come from tampering with the past. Look to the future."

"Nonsense. Your services are no longer required, Mister Tesla."

Contempt crossed Tesla's usually neutral face, and he pulled on his hat and coat without another word. There was a boat waiting for him at the shore. Before leaving he paused at the door.

"Why Jörmungandr?"

"Jörmungandr envelops the world," said Ferbgor quietly. "We are bound to time, and shall draw it closer, like a snake constricting."

Tesla snorted in disgust.

"If the Midgard Serpent uncoils, the world ends. I was under the impression that I was dealing with two scientists, not two little bastard children with delusions of grandeur. Goodbye gentlemen."

Victor watched him go, expression unreadable. Red rings ran around his eyes, running into grey bags below. The laudanum was keeping him from thinking or caring about Raskolnikov, and it was probably for the best, reasoned Ferbgor. Phineastein could not afford to be unstable so close to success. But Tesla's words hung in the air still, and Ferbgor felt extremely uncomfortable.

Phineastein turned to Moreau.

"Why are you still here?"

Moreau sat a large suitcase upon the table, opening it and briefly gesturing to the medical supplies within.

"Along with more workers, here is a surplus of opiates as you requested. I've also included an interesting book by Charles Darwin, if you have the time." Moreau checked his pocket watch. "Excuse me; I must be getting back to my island. I have to see a man about a puma."

Phineastein stood on the spot for a short time, contemplating his invention as the effects of the drugs began to wear off. Eventually, he turned and headed down the dark winding staircase to the Jörmungandr machine. The animal-like men he passed skirted into position, most shivering with nervous anticipation. Ferbgor drifted slowly behind, the usual concern marring his face.

"This time," said Victor slowly. "Ferbgor, power it up."

He did not want to waste time with speeches, especially not after his last one. Ferbgor nodded and pulled the switch, and the mechanical arms and sphere emerged from the landing pad. Phineastein wasted no time in shoving the crystal into place. Stepping away, he grinned as the familiar purple lightning shot outwards and inwards in a chaotic storm, and the machine worked itself into a deafening frenzy of cogs and levers.

The shape of the time machine could be made out amidst the smoke and light.

"Ferbgor! We've done it! It is accomplished!"

* * *

The Scottish loch was eerily calm. The corpse of the man moved by tiny variations in the water, slowly drifting towards the rocky shore. Smoke rose from the cauldron as the two began their work.

"How to stop something happening now," said the mother.

"But also in the future," agreed the old woman. "Urd."

There was a splash as the kelpie's head appeared above the water.

"What? Oh, that."

She dragged the corpse out of the water. Old habits died hard, and even with Sawney gone, the kelpie still felt the need for human flesh. The other two did not echo her sentiments. They had already forgotten about the clan.

The old woman sifted the liquid in the cauldron thoughtfully. As all three of them looked down, she began to speak.

"Fate is a strange thing. If this creation genuinely threatens time itself, doesn't that mean it has already threatened time itself?"

"We, I could feel it back then," said the kelpie.

"And we can sense it now," said the mother.

"So, if it has always been there to exist, to manipulate, surely the manipulations have already taken place, as well as taking place and about to take place."

"You've lost me," the kelpie admitted.

"If we act," continued the old woman. "We have already acted, we are acting now. We will act. We are, were, never will be the detached observers we assume to be. We are part of events, and must play our part."

"We're in a loop," realised the mother. "Playing a part in a huge conflict that has already reached its end, and is yet to begin. So what part do we play?"

The old woman dipped her hand into the cauldron, ignoring the burning sensation on her hand. The other two watched intently.

"We are not the only ones to know of these crystals. Far from it. And we are not the only ones to encounter our friends in the flying chariot… Destiny is ours. Not his."

There was a long silence between the women. The water in the loch seemed to become increasingly louder as the time vortex became visible in the cauldron, and the women witnessed everything. Crows moved in groups out of their perches, angrily screeching their disturbance. The women ignored everything surrounding them, and continued to watch the players, of which they were part.

"I have it," said the old woman slowly. "It is engendered. Hell and night must bring this monstrous scheme to the world's light."

* * *

The screams of pain echoed throughout the palace, and the guards and various servants of the Emperor ran towards his room, rushing to the beloved young Emperor's aid. Emperor Gaius thrashed and struggled violently as his friends held him down. Phineas the Greek swore for perhaps the first time in his life.

"What did he do?"

Claudius stammered nervously, doing his best to keep the Emperor's arm down.

"I t-told him not to, b-but he cracked it open…"

"Not that crystal," said Shapiro her eyes wide with panic. "He said he wouldn't!"

"As soon as he d-did, he just collapsed," Claudius gasped, avoiding a flailing fist.

Gaius' head shot upwards, staring at something that was not there, his black eyes reflecting inhuman light.

"Serpent! But the serpent is not the monster! Just a tool to be destroyed! The real monster is its charmer!"

"Gaius, can you hear me?" The Greek shook his friend, but Gaius took no notice.

"Gaius no more… Caligula beckons! Godhood waits with the passing of a dagger! Take a place in the pantheon of players! Phaeton crashes and survives with Zeus none the wiser! Yet a god am I! I am Zeus, I am the Messiah and I am chaos!"

Thunder rumbled overhead, and Claudius jumped in alarm at the unnatural flash of lightning that followed. Images pulsed into his head and were gone in an instant; for he knew they were not his. In the corner of his eye, his hair became green for a split second. The Greek and Shapiro seemed to lose height and gain it in an instant, back to normal without notice. Blood seeped from the Emperor's stomach, and was gone.

"I wield the lightning!" screamed the Emperor, and for the briefest of moments, a great machine rose before them, crackling with unimaginable power.

They recoiled in terror and the Emperor thrashed in his freed state, eventually dropping the unstable crystal to the floor.

"Something's wrong with the sky!" yelled Shapiro, noticing the lightning for the first time.

"Drawn closer together! Bound by chains!"

* * *

Bob whimpered as lightning cracked outside the grimy windows of Smile Away. The tray of food he was carrying jerked in his grasp, in danger of falling. He tried his best to retain his usual mood. _It's going to be okay_, he thought. _Just bring Patient Forty-One's food, and get back to the room. Safe there._

Smile Away's hospital ward appeared dark and empty. Bob made his way down the corridor, trying to block out both the storm and the sight of electroshock machines and frightening tools. Bob resolved to look ahead the entire time until he reached Patient 41. A low moan of pain startled him, and he turned, nearly dropping the tray in the process, to find the noise.

"Bob… help…"

Thomas lay on the floor beside a bed, tangled in the sheets, one hand clinging to the bed he had fallen from. His foot jutted out towards Bob, displaying shards of glass cutting deep into the skin. Rains moved his cast-covered arms weakly, and Bob rushed to his aid.

"Thomas? You're Patient Forty-One?"

"Help me you idiot…"

Placing the tray to the side, Bob lifted the smaller boy back onto the hospital bed. The bandages around Thomas' head loosened slightly, and he swore as he hit his head on the metal part of the cot. His foot twitched weakly, and Bob held it still, grimacing for a moment.

"Sir, everyone's been really…" Bob caught himself telling a lie and spoke the truth. "I've been really worried about you. Everyone thought you were dead after Ironside found that tunnel."

Thomas tightened his bandages, weakly trying to pull his foot from Bob's grasp.

"…he broke my arms and legs… for letting intruders get out through tunnel… my foot, you idiot!"

"Sorry boss."

Bob pulled the first shard of glass out quickly, wincing slightly as blood shot out onto the bed and Thomas snarled in pain. Bob murmured an apology before pulling out the next shards as fast as he could.

"This is… Ferb's fault," Thomas growled through gritted teeth. "Wanker thinks he's better than me… leaves me to die…"

The last shard came out accompanied by a distressed yell from the blonde boy, who bit into his hand to stifle his own noise. Bob did his best to cut off the blood, wrapping loose sheets tightly around Thomas' foot.

"Thank you…" groaned Thomas. "Must have stepped on a glass of water or something. It felt like I was somewhere else… I think there was a girl here…"

"Who is Ferb, boss?" Bob asked. "Is he your dad, or brother or friend, or what…"

"How the hell can't you tell?"

"You're somewhat inconsistent in how you talk and feel about him."

"Heh," Thomas chuckled weakly. "Maybe he is my father, in a mind-screwy way… No, he's…"

"What?"

"Important," said Thomas. It was all he could think to say. "Get out."

Bob was frozen for a moment.

"Boss, what's wrong with your mouth?"

Criss-crossing scars had appeared across Thomas' mouth, as if it had once been stitched together. Thomas raised a cautious hand to examine, but in an instant, the scars were gone. Bob swallowed nervously and hurried from the ward, leaving the blonde boy alone in the dark.

* * *

England stinks. Of fish and chips. That's the most I can come up with at the moment, but what can I say? I'm not a poet. I'm a private eye.

The smell of the bar is different though, and it hits me like a sledgehammer the second I walk in the door. The place is near deserted – you would think there would be a lot of people celebrating. After all, the war is over. It feels strange to be in back in Britain, but I'm following up a lead in a case involving myself and Captain Stacy. As in, I'm running away for a bit because I accidentally shot Captain Stacy.

"Nineteen forty-five, huh?" says a man, who appears to be dressed like some sort of cross-dressing priest. "It's going to down in history."

"Leave the woman alone Crowley," says his companion, a tall man in a sharp suit. He takes a martini at the bar – shaken, not stirred.

Crowley just smiles at me. This guy really invades my personal space, and his voice sounds like he's about to molest you, but I suppose he's likable enough. He draws a tarot card from his robe and fiddles with it.

"When I was a boy," he says slowly. I hope to God this isn't an attempt at a pick up line. "I was handed an artifact of immense power under one condition. I'm fulfilling this condition now. Sometime next year, the time will come to pass your gun to someone. You'll know when."

"Not likely," I laugh into my whisky. "Besides, how the hell am I meant to remember that in a year?"

Crowley smiles again.

"You won't. But you'll do it anyway. There's another war here."

And like that, he's gone, striding out onto the streets as if he owns them. The suited man follows him out and I'm left sitting there like a… thing that sits there.

* * *

Machiavelli gazed up at the night sky. Something was wrong. The storm was thick and violent, but there was something unrecognisable within – strange images that danced on his vision and were gone. Leonardo stood beside his friend, stroking his beard thoughtfully. For a moment, Machiavelli thought Leonardo looked much older, and the vision of a dark hall and a powerful invention ran through his head.

"I'm… scared," Machiavelli admitted.

"I know," Leonardo said calmly. "But keep looking forward. Whatever this is, it won't last. In fact, I don't think anyone else can see it."

"Let's hope so."

The two men continued to look of the window, and in the kitchen, the time machine began to materialise. Shouting came from within, and the two men ran to the cries of distress.

"My brother's been shot!"

"Help us…"

* * *

Phineas flinched as the strange light lashed at the time machine, and he stumbled back into his seat as surroundings became visible. Isabella shrieked in alarm as another strike from the storm-like presence. Buford fell over in the panic, and yelled with pain as he struck a hard floor.

"What's happening?" Baljeet yelled, following Buford's example and jumping from the time machine.

Another yell of pain sounded out, but it was not from the children. An old man stood a short distance away, grasping at his hand in pain. He seemed to grow taller and older, and younger and shorter all at once. Another man struggled to move as his green hair became gray and he limped towards the machine.

"The m-machine!" Ferbgor cried. "It's not just pulling one of those crystals – it's pulling all of them!"

Phineastein looked up in terror at the time machine on the landing pad. His goal was so close, but he could barely move. He closed his eyes and grimaced as he yelled.

"Turn it off!"

The children stumbled from the machine as Ferbgor struggled forward. Ferb hobbled towards the man on his crutches, realising the man's need for assistance. The others ran forward, flinching and dodging as the storm of electricity and unworldly power intensified. Phineas covered his face in terror as familiar shapes began to materialise. Roman construction was beginning to fade in, as were the familiar skylines of Danville and Cesena. The machine shook ever more violently, beginning to crack and come apart, small bits of metal and lightning shooting out into the room.

The purple light shot out and stuck one of Ferb's crutches, incinerating it instantly. He reached the switch first, and pulled down violently, but it would not move. Ferbgor crashed against the control board, also attempting to force the switch down. Electricity shot through his body, and he shook violently as it ran though the course of his body. Ferb was shocked backwards, but regained his position quickly and made a quick decision. The remaining crutch was slammed angrily into the control panel, bursting into flame as it crashed through the switches. The pain experienced by Ferbgor came to a sudden end and he managed to pull the switch down before sinking to the floor.

The buildings that cracked the interior of the castle faded away from existence, and Phineastein felt himself back to normal. However, everyone present could only watch in horror s the Jörmungandr machine caved in on itself – towards the time machine.

Phineas lurched forward, arm outstretched, but Isabella pulled him back as the machine came crashing down, crushing the time machine beneath its weight.

"No," said Phineastein.

The children ran to Ferb, who lay against the smouldering wreckage of the control panel, breathing heavily. He was shaken but unharmed. Ferbgor lay spluttering beside him, heavy burns visible on his hands. Isabella took one look at him before shouting to the scientist standing dumbfounded.

"This man needs medical attention!"

The words echoed in Phineastein's head as he stared at the wreckage. The voice sounded familiar. The children looked familiar. Despite the sting of his failure hanging over him, a plan began to form in his head.

"Don't worry," he said, talking rapidly. "Men, take Ferbgor to a room, call Doctor Moreau if he's still here. Children, I am sorry for the current situation, I truly am. I am Doctor Victor Phineastein."

As the animal-men rushed forward and carried Ferbgor away, the group mumbled their names unsurely.

"We're trapped here," said Phineas to the scientist, half-accusing, half-resigned.

"Don't worry," repeated Phineastein. "We'll fix a new machine. We'll get you home. Until then, you are welcome to stay here."

_And fix my machine, _he thought to himself.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! To be honest, I'm not sure how many chapters there are to go, it depends really. We are approaching the end though. At least three more chapters, anyway. For those wondering, Crowley's drinking companion is Ian Fleming, the creator of James Bond, who was Crowley's handler during the war. Seriously - Ian Fleming, Aleister Crowley and Christopher Lee (yes, that Christopher Lee) were spies during World War 2. **

**Caligula is seen here in the first year or so of his reign, during which he was almost universally loved. His insanity began to be reported after he fell ill for a long period of time - here shown with the crystal etc**

**Wish I had more to say here... Ah well, adieu!**


	13. The Sound of Drums

**Hello again, and happy Easter to those celebrating. Anyway, here's where the real action begins. Enjoy!**

* * *

Phineastein's workers sifted cautiously through the wreckage of the great machine, often narrowly avoiding sharp drops and dangerously angled wiring that sparked every so often. They were unconcerned – being little more than animals, they only really reacted to organic threat, treating everything else with indifference.

Phineastein himself would have liked to supervise this process, but his natural politeness had taken hold, and he slowly showed his guests around the castle.

"Out there," he said, pointing his cane at a window, "There's a fairly dangerous swamp. I won't restrict you from anywhere, but I'd advise against going there in particular."

"What, there monsters or something?" asked Buford, apparently having forgotten how to use the word 'are'.

"I don't think so… Ferbgor's a crack shot anyway, if there's anything, he'll take it out. I just meant that the swamp is notably treacherous."

"Is he going to be alright?" Isabella asked.

"Ferbgor? He's been through worse. The rooms are down this corridor, you're welcome to use any of them, I don't think anyone else ever has…"

"You know," Phineas said amicably, "Our grandpa sometimes tells stories about you. Shouldn't you be in Druselstein?"

Phineastein was ahead of the group, and Phineas could not see his face. He did however, think that Phineastein's shoulders sank a little.

"Did he ever tell you what happened to the 'Great Doctor Phineastein'?"

"I think he said there was some sort of scandal, and you disappeared. What happened?"

"Hmm," said Phineastein. "Down this way are the kitchens, in which you'll find…"

"Oh, don't worry," said Isabella. "I'm sure we won't be here that long, right Phineas?"

"We won't waste your time," Phineas said politely. "With your technology, we'll have the machine fixed in about a day."

Phineas was far from cruel, but he wished he could have taken a picture of Victor's face at that point.

"A… day?" The dumbfounded scientist asked. "What's taken me years… a day? You're sure?"

Phineas nodded cheerfully.

"Yep, it shouldn't take long at all. As soon as your men finish clearing the wreckage, we'll begin work. Or, Ferb will begin work – usually I just collect the things we need."

Victor was extremely impressed, even through the effect of the laudanum. He stood on the spot for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the child's confidence. The fact that the boy had made years of work an afternoon's activity was at once wonderful and infuriating. He stroked his scraggly little beard and nodded.

"Well, I guess you're free to go about until the creatures clear the debris."

"Creatures?" asked Baljeet.

"They're not, strictly speaking, human," said Phineastein, walking back down the corridor. "I'll call you when we're ready to begin repairs. And remember, stay out of the swamp!"

The sound of his footsteps soon faded into the distance, with the group merely looking around. After a short silence, Isabella spoke her mind.

"I hate to say this, because he has been very kind," she said sheepishly, "but he gives me the creeps."

"Aw, he seems nice enough," Phineas said, frowning.

"He looks at me strangely," she said.

"He seems rather sad," observed Baljeet.

"He sounds like Vincent Price," Buford insisted.

"Like trees…" said Ferb, looking out of the window. "…in November. Creatures…"

"What?" asked Phineas, crossing over to the window.

"Won't get straight answer," Ferb said with a grimace, keeping his voice low. "But that thing that attacked us wasn't strictly human either."

Isabella ran a hand along the stone walls. The castle had clearly been there for some time, but it was not more than seventy years old - although the stones themselves were old, they did not match together, as if the castle had been assembled from whatever material could be found. She jumped a little as her hand ran across something slimy. With a disgusted look, she plucked the offending snail from the wall by its shell.

The sound of excited sniffing echoed through the hall. The vibrations of a huge animal moving through the old building were felt by the whole group. Soon, a giant orange beak was visible, and eventually, the whole animal lumbered into view, waving its head excitedly.

"That…" Phineas began, searching for the right words, "…is the coolest thing I have ever seen."

"Is it friendly?" Baljeet asked.

"Only one way to find out," grunted Buford, rolling up his sleeves.

"Wait," commanded Isabella.

She held the snail up so that it was visible. As soon as she did, the animal nodded enthusiastically, its oversized beak opening and snapping shut. Isabella laughed lightly and tossed the raw snail over to the animal. In an instant, the small gastropod was gone, the giant platypus crunching happily. With eager eyes, it bounded towards the girl, awaiting more food. When it became apparent there was none, it attempted to curl up at her feet, nearly crushing her in the process.

Ferb stroked the animal's greenish-brown fur gently, taking note that the animal appeared to have been injured gravely at some point – dagger wounds were faded near the hind legs.

"If no-one objects," said Isabella happily, "I'm going to call him Giga-Perry."

"Sounds good to me," Phineas remarked.

"Fine," Baljeet muttered. "We'll just apply SI prefixes to everything now, without a care for the meanings. True, giga means 'giant', but… no-one's listening to me, are they?"

Giga-Perry seemed to agree with Baljeet, sneezing into the young boy's face with absolutely no warning. A low groan rumbled from the animal's stomach, and it rose to its feet. For a moment it gazed at Isabella, making short chirping noises, until she realised what it meant. She clambered up the thick fur and sat on the creature's back.

"Adyson is going to be so jealous," she mused.

The others, with the exception of Ferb, managed to clamber aboard, and set off quite happily, going wherever Giga-Perry decided. Ferb stood alone, leaning on the uncomfortable lengths of wood he was now using for crutches. He narrowed his eyes – Phineastein had not forbid them from anywhere, but there was something suspicious about the man.

If there was one thing Ferb had learned throughout the trip, it was that he and his friends were in constant danger. It seemed best to retain an attitude of caution – he was reminded of the girl in Scotland.

"Like a spider's web…" he said to himself.

He hobbled off to find the others.

* * *

Ferbgor coughed harshly into a handkerchief, blood spraying onto the fabric and his face. It occurred to him now that a castle was not the ideal place to live – the slit of a window had no shutters, and despite the heat, all of the wind seemed to be directed into his room. However, he could hear the birds and frogs in the swamp, and if he strained, could probably see them too.

From the bedside cabinet, he raised his pistol, pointing it at several birds in succession. He could probably hit them all, even in his weakened state.

"Don't shoot the birds," said Phineastein, annoyed.

Ferbgor smiled weakly and put the gun aside.

"Fixed… yet?" he asked. His voice was pained and guttural.

"No, not yet," said Phineastein, wiping his brow. "The children claim they can rebuild it in a day."

"…believe them?"

"Well, they certainly believe it. And they also believe that we merely wanted to time travel. Which isn't so much a lie as not the full truth."

"Kill them?"

Phineastein looked away.

"The time comes when I even consider it," he muttered. "No, Ferbgor, I'm not going to kill a group of children."

"Good," Ferbgor groaned. "We're going to hell as it is…"

"No," said Phineastein, eyes flashing angrily. "This world is going straight to hell. We're going to the next one."

Ferbgor nodded slowly, but he did not match Phineastein's conviction. A sudden bird call just outside the window startled them both, and Ferbgor nearly fell out of bed. The taller man managed to cough and laugh at the same time before lying back down.

"Don't think I'll be able to come with you…"

"Don't be stupid Ferbgor. You're not dying yet."

Phineastein left the room quickly. Perhaps it was the laudanum, or whatever Moreau had put in those vials, but his legs felt better as the days progressed. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so close to success.

"And you won't ever die," Victor said. "Not in this life. What is it?"

The creature scuttled out from the shadows, bowing its head nervously. It reminded Victor greatly of Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov, lost to time. But that did not matter. Just like all of them, Raskolnikov would be born again.

"Rubble, debris cleared. Ready to begin if you are."

Phineastein nodded curtly.

"Certainly. Fetch the children. Well, not all of them. Just Phineas and Ferb. And make sure the girl isn't there, I don't want to see her unless it's necessary."

"Yes sir, very good sir."

* * *

The grounds of the castle were surprisingly well-kept. What little grass there was ran only for a short distance, until it reached the tropical-looking forest, which looked dark even in the middle of the day. Further down the island, the beach could be made out, reaching along the length not covered by red rocks. Giga-Perry chattered peacefully, and lay down in the rays of sunshine coming through the trees. The children slid from the animal's back, looking around.

"We should come here on vacation," Isabella remarked.

Phineas lay against the platypus, nearly submerged in the fur.

"Really?" he said. "I thought we could go visit Caligula again."

When Isabella turned angrily, he laughed.

"Isabella, I'm joking."

"Sorry, but the sort of things that have been happening to us, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that happened."

"Buford don't like this place," growled the large boy lying on the grass.

"Why am I not surprised?" Baljeet asked. "Oh, because you have hated everywhere we have been."

"With good reason!" protested the bully. "Everyone's trying to kill us!"

Soon, a disgruntled Ferb came into view, slowly hobbling towards them, stumbling over depressions in the grass. Phineas felt somewhat guilty for forgetting about his brother, but lately, Ferb had been oddly hostile, or at least paranoid, and Phineas did not want to spend time with him.

Ferb did not sit down. Instead, he stood looking at the group angrily, as if he were expecting them to get up. Isabella looked up lazily, and averted her eyes from the green-haired boy. It was best not to aggravate him, she reasoned.

Ferb was about to open his mouth when the sudden appearance of one of Phineastein's workers distracted him.

"Your presence is required," said the creature.

Everyone made to stand up, but the worker held up his hand.

"Only Ferb and Phineas. Don't need rest of you."

Phineas and Ferb stood up obediently and followed the worker inside the castle. Isabella watched them go with some annoyance – she would have liked some time to talk to Phineas when they were not being chased by something.

"Well, I guess we should sights…" Baljeet began.

"NO!" Isabella shouted frantically. "No sightseeing!"

"Why not?"

"Every time you do, something horrible happens! We'll stay right here."

Giga-Perry chattered in agreement.

* * *

Phineastein placed a small cage on a small table beside the landing pad. Inside, Silent Bob squeaked, disturbed from his usual routine of sleeping.

"One mouse in crushed cage," Victor said to Phineas and Ferb. "One Roman dagger. One… pistol, I think. One trench coat that smells like platypus faeces. Several bags of crushed food. That's all we could find."

"That's okay," said Phineas happily. "I think that's all we had anyway."

"Right, well I can honestly say your time machine itself has seen better days."

Part of the time machine still stood upright – a small part of the hull upon which the crystal rested, but the remainder of the machine was more or less destroyed. On the bright side, Phineas thought, there was no longer any dangerous sparking coming from the back of it.

Ferb moved around the machine, brow furrowed. Phineastein watched intently, and waited for the brothers to request any parts. After a moment of prodding the machine with his crutches, Ferb spoke.

"With your technology," he said slowly. "We'll take longer. Might need to stay here tonight, given our late start."

"Granted," said Phineastein. "I guess you'll need those rooms after all. You – prepare five bedrooms. Anything else?"

"Why did you need the time machine?"

"Why?" Victor chuckled nervously. "Why would anyone not want the ability to time travel? I expect that I had the same motives as you – seize the day, and all that."

"That has occurred to me," said Phineas. "Why didn't you build your own?"

"Ah, well," said Phineastein, some anger entering his words. "That… man Onassis burnt most of his plans. Those that he didn't destroy were sent to somewhere in America, and are no doubt in a museum archive by now. Onassis himself disappeared, presumably to the future or something. Set us back about twenty years."

Ferb nodded, and knelt down to examine the wiring. The parts of the machine made from the Sunbeater 3000 were more or less intact, aside from the directional computer, which was still offline. Ferb doubted that he could get it working again – he would now need to place in co-ordinates in a much more primitive way.

"Where do you want to go?" asked Phineas. "If Ferb has to specify each area and time zone we want to visit, you'll need to input your details."

Phineastein told them the co-ordinates and year, but did not elaborate further. After several hours of hard work, Ferb finally dropped his tools and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Done for now," he muttered.

Phineas thought this was odd, but he was tired, and agreed with his brother. Victor just allowed them to go, and the two brothers walked up to the dark rooms in the castle above. Phineas wanted to see everyone else, but Isabella, Baljeet and Buford were already asleep, someone having apparently filled them in.

"Night, I guess," he said to Ferb.

"You're wondering why I'm acting like this," Ferb said bluntly.

"Well, I…"

"The world's not black and white, Phineas. It isn't just Leonardo on one side and Ironside on the other. I don't trust Phineastein, and neither should you."

Ferb walked inside his room, the door slamming shut harshly. Phineas stood alone, thinking about what his brother had said. He turned and walked back down the corridor.

* * *

Victor stood at the castle's entrance, staring up at the stars. The moon glinted down, mocking him. In the swamp, something squealed loudly. He heard Phineas arriving behind him.

"Do you believe in God, Phineas?"

Phineas was not sure why Victor had asked, but he answered anyway. He liked Victor, despite Ferb's paranoid slander.

"Not really, no."

"I do," Victor said, lighting a cigarette. He wondered if it would affect the laudanum in his system. "But I wish I didn't. There's something about your destiny being controlled that I find intensely disturbing."

"I know how you feel," Phineas said politely. Ferb's advice ran through his head, and he asked, "Victor, why do you really want the time machine?"

Victor looked down at his feet, drawing his eyes away from the stars.

"Have you ever experienced loss? The loss of someone you didn't appreciate until they were gone? Of course you haven't."

"Wait…" said Phineas, Victor's words dawning on him. "You're not trying to alter the past are you?"

Victor laughed sadly.

"Why the hell would I want the machine for a tour of the world? You hold such power and you go on a trip? There's so much you could change!"

"You can't alter the past!" said Phineas. "Everything is so closely linked – you change one thing, you change everything!"

"Look whose talking about what you can and can't do!" Victor snapped suddenly. "You murdered my son, you little shit! Trying to give me orders, acting like you know everything!"

"Your son…" Phineas said, and his eyes widened in horror. "You sent that thing after us!"

"That thing…" Victor's face was contorted with rage. "Grab him."

Phineas realised too late that two workers had been standing behind him. His arms were pulled roughly behind his back, and a foot crashed into the back of his leg, bringing him to his knees.

"I'm far beyond your stupid judgements and declarations! Why can't I do this? Why does everyone else get to waltz about like they're having the time of their life? Enough of your 'destiny' nonsense! I'll change it if I wish!"

"Please," Phineas groaned through the pain. "There's nothing to be gained from living in the past! Just listen…"

A bag was pulled over the boy's head before he could finish his sentence, and he was hoisted to his feet. The workers' hands dug into his arms painfully, and he struggled in vain. One of the workers punched the captive Phineas in the face, and the boy sagged in their grasp, stunned. Through the bag, Phineas could hear Victor talking.

"You admitted your own uselessness, Phineas. Ferb does all the building. I'm sorry it's come to this, but anyone who opposes me is removed. Take him out to the swamp and kill him."

"Yes sir."

Phineastein walked back inside the castle, calling to the retreating figures.

"Goodbye, Phineas Flynn. Perhaps you should be less trusting in the future."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I wondered where you'd all got to last week, actually. Anyway, now we've seen Phineastein get genuinely nasty - before he was more or less understandable, but he is still the bad guy in all this. It was sort of weird writing his minor breakdown, considering my previous bad guys have been crazy from the start, including Thomas 'Villainous Breakdown Personified' Rains. Prepare for increasing darkness! Until next time.**


	14. Eulogy for Joy

**I'm back! his chapter is a bag full of crazy by the way. So kick back, put Ode to Joy on at an impossible volume, and go insane!**

* * *

The bag around Phineas' head seemed to constrict ever tighter the longer they walked. His arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets. The bag offered little air, so any word from his mouth was tiny and irrelevant. He let out a tiny yelp as his foot caught in something on the ground. There was silence for a moment before something cracked into his face viciously. Phineas stumbled to the ground again.

"Runt can't even walk straight…"

"How are we going to do this? Got no weapons."

"We'll take 'im a bit further, and then we'll rip 'is throat out. Too messy to do it 'ere."

Phineas' arms were yanked upwards, and he hung uselessly in the grasp of the workers. They were in the swamp now – although sound was muffled, the slow, nauseating noises of the mud congealing and bursting were audible. Phineas' airborne feet briefly snagged on a tree root, and he was hit again, before the first voice became fed up.

"This is going to keep on 'appening. Kill 'im now."

"Here?"

"We're out of sight of the castle, I think. There's only one window facing this way. We could probably eat 'im, we've got time."

"Phineastein said put him in the swamp."

"Well Phineastein can go f-!"

There a loud crack that Phineas immediately thought of as a car backfiring, but past experience had taught him that it was probably not. The grip on his right arm disappeared completely, followed by a dull thud as both Phineas and the first worker hit the ground. The second worker stepped on Phineas in the dark, the sound of his movement wild and erratic. A second shot rang out and Phineas heard the other worker slump against the tree. His breathing inside the bag was getting closer and closer to hyperventilation. Panic flooded his system, and his hands roamed the ground, seeking any way out. His fingers brushed over something wet and warm, and with sudden horror, Phineas realised it was the worker's face.

He screamed inside his burlap prison and bolted to his feet, running without direction. In the distance he thought he heard someone call his name, but he kept on running, tearing wildly at the bag. Staggering against trees and through wet ferns, Phineas eventually collapsed into the mud as the bad came free. His heart hammered against his chest and he felt something warm travel down his leg and turn cold in an instant. Mud smeared his features as he looked around wildly. In his temple, a vein began to throb violently.

"…help… alone…" he stammered, his heartbeat only increasing with each word. "Help me… what's happening…"

"Happening? Why bird boy, hasn't it occurred to you? You're going mad. Aheheh."

* * *

Even as Ferbgor dropped the smoking gun from the window, he knew it was a futile gesture – Phineastein would know exactly what had happened. The scientist would have heard the shots from anywhere in the castle. Ferbgor sat down on his bed and sighed wearily. He already regretted discarding the gun.

Ferbgor was not a man prone to random acts of charity, and he had barely met the boy that had been in danger, but he knew there was a line. It was his duty to ensure that Victor did not cross it.

The door opened with a creak. Phineastein was being eerily considerate – he did not want to wake the children sleeping downstairs.

"You've betrayed me," the scientist said bluntly.

"I've saved you," replied Ferbgor, gazing blankly at the wall.

"What, are you on soul-saving duty again?" Phineastein snarled, all while keeping a low volume. "The boy will die out in that swamp and you know it!"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, it will be on my conscience, and not yours."

Despite his usual calm exterior, Ferbgor flinched as Victor grabbed him suddenly by the collar.

"You agreed to everything! You said you'd help, no matter what! We agreed, over her body!"

Ferbgor's voice was still unnaturally calm.

"I agreed, yes. We gave up our lives in this world for our lives in the next. But if you carry on like this, this attitude that nothing matters in this timeline, then who is to say you won't think the next timeline is meaningless? I want what you want, but you will never have complete perfection, Victor, you know that. You tried to kill a child. A child who questioned your motives – and don't deny it, because I heard it. You were standing at the abyss, and I've pulled you out. Find that boy."

Victor's grip loosened on Ferbgor's collar, but shifted to the man's neck. Clammy fingers closed around Ferbgor's throat, weakly constricting. Victor's eyes met with Ferbgor's, and the hands were immediately withdrawn. Victor stepped back, breathing heavy and panicked.

"You're right. Eisenseite was right. I am a murderer. A child murderer."

He looked at his arms, as if noticing the track marks for the first time.

"I cannot be remembered like this…"

"Exactly," Ferbgor said, placing a hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Make amends. Save that boy's life."

Workers edged in at the door, eyeing their leader curiously. Phineastein's light blue eyes scanned the room feverishly, searching for an exit as his thoughts and realisations merged in to one another. It was a long time before he spoke.

"No."

"What?" Ferbgor said, defeat evident in his voice.

"It's too late for that. Don't you see? I crossed your line years ago. Phineas is just another casualty, and a particularly bad one at that. But I'm so close to success – we're so close. I hate myself for it Ferbgor, I really do. I deserve every single bit of that hate. The new me shall not become me as I am."

Phineastein turned to the workers.

"Get my morphine and prepare the chamber for tomorrow's work. I will let Ferb and the others rest for now, but I'll make Phineas' fate quite clear. I owe them that much."

"What about me?" Ferbgor asked in a small voice. "Are you going to kill me?"

Phineastein hobbled his way out of the door, barely looking over his shoulder.

"I'm not going to kill you, Ferbgor. You're my greatest friend." To the workers he added, "A permanent guard on this room. Make sure that he does not interfere."

* * *

"Look at you," said Thomas. "Look at what they make you give."

Phineas coughed and spluttered in the mud, disbelieving eyes gazing up at his would-be saviour. Or was it tormentor?

Thomas looked strange to Phineas, but it took a moment to register exactly why – Rains looked perfectly healthy, a state in which Phineas had never seen him. The blonde hair was cut short, the bags under the eyes were gone, making the black irises seem somehow brighter. There was no smell.

"Dead…grave in Danville," Phineas said, his lungs feeling constricted.

"Oh. Most definitely. Aheheh."

"How?"

Thomas tapped the side of his head, making a hollow sound that reverberated within Phineas' skull. It was deafening.

"Did you really think, Pyramid Head, that you could just repress things? I mean it started fairly minor, what with the whole embarrassing puberty thing, but refusing to see a shrink after your ordeal with me and Ironside? Even to a guy like me, that's really stupid."

Phineas shivered as Thomas suddenly appeared right beside him in the mud, uncomfortably close. But the mud itself no longer seemed to be there – instead, there was an all-consuming blackness surrounding them.

"Are you afraid Phineas? Afraid of being alone? Afraid of losing everyone? Or are you scared of yourself?"

Phineas shrank before the questions, trying to turn his face away from Thomas' sneering, but the English boy seemed to force him to watch and listen.

"You're pathetic! A coward! A snivelling little wanker despised by everyone! Even your girlfriend can't stand you most of the time! Aheheh. You placed such hopes in your own attitude!"

Phineas curled into a ball. The noise in his head was constantly intensifying, boring into his thoughts, clouding them with panic and uncertainty.

"You act like every single spoiled child!"

Louder.

"You can't understand that life will never be so idealised! As long as you exist, so does the opposite side!"

Murderously loud.

"Phineas Flynn, driven mad by his own stupid outlook on life! Because it just doesn't match up to reality, does it? The truth surrounds you, DOESN'T IT! Everywhere you go, it's people like me who are more common. Deep down, everyone is like me! No-one is inherently good!"

"ENOUGH!" Phineas screamed, and the noise stopped.

Thomas took a noticeable step backwards. Phineas struggled onto his hands and knees, the effort crackling through his system as if it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. It was. His grasping fingers felt around mud, and the brown sludge became visible to him. Rains was unable to move, looking at Phineas with a mixture of fear and awe.

"You don't frighten me," Phineas growled through gritted teeth. "You can't live up to your own dogma. You claim to be some sort of genius perfect sociopath, but you're not. You're an insignificant, mentally-ill, pathetic little child! In the end, you were as susceptible to caring as I. You died saving someone, and I was proud of you. You proved me right back then. You're irrelevant."

Thomas blinked numbly, and made a low, nauseating choking sound that also echoed in Phineas' head. Rains attempted to reach towards Phineas, but he was fading, the swamp rising to engulf him. Phineas leaned forward; trying to save the other boy, but the apparition sank into the mud and was gone. Phineas breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the mud begin to clear away from his eyes, allowing him to see the swamp fully for a moment, the moon shining down as the only light.

A cane splashed against the mud. Boots were at his head, but Phineas could not feel the mud hit his face.

"Look at you," said Ludovico. "You had so much potential, and now it's come to this."

The noise in Phineas' head was back, far worse than it had ever been, the vein in his temple repeatedly drumming the pain home. He let out a horrifying scream of pain.

"Get away from me!"

"It's been a long time. I've been quite busy being dead after you murdered me."

Phineas merely winced and whimpered as the doctor continued talking, striding back and forth, apparently not knowing or not caring that he was in a swamp.

"You were so capable – your constructions fascinate everyone you know. You had the ability to do anything you pleased… but now you're broken, useless, a little boy dying in a swamp."

"I tried… tried to help everyone…"

"You cannot possibly do that in real life, Mister Flynn. You helped people at your own expense, neglecting your very sanity."

Phineas crawled in the mud, grasping for any semblance of solid ground. It felt as if the mud was swallowing him as it had done to Rains. He felt his legs suddenly dangle helplessly, hanging above some sort of abyss. He could not breathe – mud filled his mouth and eyes once more, and he thrashed wildly in an attempt to escape. The constant pain in his head made it feel as if his brain was squirming.

"You really are pathetic, aren't you?" Ludovico continued. "You've never experienced hardship or suffering before. It's this modern society to blame though. Constantly brought up to believe you are special, that everyone is capable of the same. If you had just helped yourself, you'd have been better off. Cast off those people, forget…"

"Shut up," Phineas growled, rising to his knees. The mud washed away once again, clearing from his face. "You're dead and I'm glad. You were completely irredeemable, and what's more, I'm not scared of you. You're just a racist old man who was brought down by his refusal to accept someone else's help. Get. Out. Of. My. Head."

Ludovico collapsed onto the ground, dropping his cane. His glasses flashed blue, and then, before a horrified Phineas, expanded. The glass reached out over Ludovico's face, enveloping the terrified man, and eventually covered the entire body. The blue glass pulled down despite Ludovico's struggles, down into the mud, with only air bubbles betraying their existence.

Phineas' knees hurt badly, but in his grasping, he managed to locate a tree root. The young boy pulled himself to his feet, looking up at the sky. The sun would be rising soon. He wondered exactly how long he had been there for. His sudden clarity caught him by surprise, and he began to rationalise that he must have had some sort of fit, and that he should…

He knew who was standing behind him.

"Look at you," said Ironside. "You really are just a stupid little boy, aren't you?"

Phineas nodded, turning very pale. Ironside walked deeper into the trees, not sinking into the mud in the slightest. Phineas followed him numbly, unable to think of any other way to act.

"In the end," said Ironside, lighting a cigar, "What makes an extremist? Is it mere devotion to an ideal?"

"…extreme actions obviously…" Phineas coughed, some contempt audible.

"Indeed – killing makes an extremist. When you decide to kill for your beliefs, that is the behaviour of an extremist, no matter how you dress it up. So I am an extremist, a fanatic, a man so completely devoted to an ideology that I have become a monster. And so are you Phineas."

Phineas looked away – the noise in his head had disappeared, but Ironside's very words seemed to echo in his thoughts. If Phineas had been a clichéd action hero, he might have responded with something like 'I'm nothing like you'. Instead, the cold realisation of the truth ran through his system like a stroke.

"You may wish to hide it – claim my actions lead to my death, but the truth is Phineas – you killed me."

"No… I…" Phineas clutched his head.

"You knew that you were handing me a death sentence. You were hoping for the death of your opponent. Phineas Flynn… it pains you doesn't it? Although my death in itself doesn't, the knowledge that you have killed haunts you most of all. The others can't understand, but mental illness is hard to recognise."

"…but you're insane!" Phineas shouted suddenly. "You deserved everything that came at you!"

"Perhaps," said Ironside, letting out a long string of smoke. "But you still can't live with yourself. And how is your outlook any less insane than mine?"

Ironside waved his hand, and a miniature model of the rollercoaster rose from the mud. Phineas stood amazed, as tiny moving humans became visible, sitting on the cars or waiting in line. The cars began speeding along the track, the sounds of laughter and good-natured screaming reachind Phineas' ears.

"I find humanity a disgusting thing," said Ironside. "The world is not worth saving. I tried, and it wouldn't listen."

Phineas flinched in horror as flames burst out across the rollercoaster, screaming balls of fire jumping to their deaths in the crowd below. The track began to crumble, and the people sank into the mud, terrified yells and cries as men, women and children were pulled down with the rollercoaster, gone forever.

Phineas could feel tears cut a clear stream through the mud on his face.

"It's not…" he sighed eventually. "I can't… I always…"

"See, it helps you to think of me as a two-dimensional monster because that's all you saw," Ironside said, his signature growl slowly returning. "But that's exactly what an extremist does – demonises the enemy. And look where that got you. You can't hide from it anymore."

Ironside smirked and faded away as the sky gradually turned brighter. For a moment, the cigar hung in the air, smoking gently, before it too disappeared completely, and Phineas was alone.

"I can't…" he muttered to himself as he staggered among the trees. "Demonise Victor… because he's me… I understand…"

As the sun rose over the island, the heat already caking the mud in his clothes, Phineas peered through the trees to the castle. It made sense – he would need to do it to protect his friends and family. To protect everyone.

"Victor… I have to kill you."

* * *

Ferb found himself looking up at another strange roof. Waking up in strange beds, he thought with a smile. Adyson would have appreciated that joke. Although, if Ferb got his way, he would spend most of his adult life doing exactly that. The smile faded from his face as he sat up however – the dull ache from his scars immediately ruining his good mood. He reached for his crutches, hobbling from the bed. It felt strange actually, not to be forced awake by Phineas' usual excitement.

Reaching the nightstand, he found his watch and clothes, finally managing to head out of the room. The sight that greeted him was surprising.

Doctor Phineastein was standing right there, flanked by his workers. Ferb glanced around in confusion, seeing Isabella, Baljeet and Buford among them.

"What's going on?"

His friends looked up at him with defeated eyes. Ferb realised that they were being held by the workers, and were unable to move.

"What have you done?" he growled, turning to face the man he had never trusted.

Phineastein checked his watch, appearing very bored, before sighing.

"I didn't want to lie to all of you, because I've told enough lies. So, as you can see from his absence, Phineas will not be joining us. He opposed, and was cast out, and I'll do the same to your friends if you don't co-operate."

Ferb just stared blankly at first, still searching for his brother. Phineas had to be somewhere among the crowd… Anger flooded his system and he lurched forward, only to be brutally beaten down by one of the workers.

"You bastard!" He heard Isabella shout.

"Shut up," said Phineastein blandly, purposefully not looking at the girl. "Take them away to the room. I'd just love to debate with you on the context of your accusation, but I have a timeline to destroy."

Ferb was hoisted to his feet, clenching his teeth together painfully, trying not cry in front of his friends. Phineastein's morphine-addled eyes bored into his for a moment, before the doctor turned and began walking down the corridor.

"Come on then. You have a time machine to fix."

The children could not do anything as they were dragged towards the room and Phineastein's apparently inevitable success.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. You know, it's kinda weird - although I wrote this before I started watching it, there's something of Evangelion in this chapter, I just can't quite place it. This is sort of a deconstruction of Phineas' optimism at the end of SART and a reminder that he really, really should have seen that therapist. So, I apologise for sending Phineas slightly over the deep end, but it was kinda necessary. If you have the time, look up Mark Twain's short story 'The Mysterious Stranger' which Ironside briefly references in his actions. I did feel this chapter was far too dialogue-heavy though.**


	15. Moments Lost In Time

**Well, here we are again, at the big showdown! I wonder if anyone can remember Chekov's Various Objects to come into play?**

* * *

"_Doctor Phineastein was the most famous inventor of his era – the basis for a great number of stories. In fact, lazy writers often took his adventures and renamed the characters – the stories seemed so fantastical that no-one questioned their origin."_

"_But what happened to him Grandpa?"_

"_No-one really knows – the records are somewhat sketchy. Some people claim he never existed, but that's just stupid. There seems to have been a great scandal at the time, and after that, Victor Phineastein and Ferbgor were never seen again. Knowing them, they could have become famous somewhere else, under different names…"_

Ferb shivered under the gaze of the doctor, and tweaked at a loose screw on the hull of the machine. He wondered if he would be able to delay long enough for some sort of rescue. But that was stupid – there would be no rescue. This was not something that would just go away.

Then again, he thought, Phineas had been presumed dead before.

"Stop dawdling, you little idiot," snapped Victor, now examining a vial of cocaine on a nearby table. He reasoned that it would be unwise to take the drug so soon after his morphine intake.

"You know that you can't possibly achieve anything," Ferb said quietly.

"What?" Phineastein asked, looking up.

"You can't change the past. It's simple logic really – if you change something, then you lose the motivation to change that in the future, negating your trip to begin with."

Phineastein stood up angrily, shoving the wheeled table across the landing pad, where it crashed into the time machine. On top of the table, Silent Bob squeaked in annoyance, and Caligula's dagger clattered and fell, landing below the landing pad with a crash. Ferb eyed the gun on the table thoughtfully. As far as he was aware, Phineastein thought the gun to be loaded.

"You're lying!" Phineastein yelled, raising his hand to hit the boy.

Ferb smiled mockingly in response and resumed his work.

"Don't… don't… SAY IT AGAIN! What did you say?" Victor screamed, face growing extremely red.

Ferb refused to answer, continuing repairs as if the old man was not there. Victor calmed down, blinking dumbly on the landing pad, catching sight of his workers and the captive children at the other end of the room. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. For some reason, the morphine did little to dull his fear, or at least, that was what he thought. It could not have been a waste – his struggles had to mean something.

Of course, he thought. Ferb was only trying to provoke a reaction – trying to prevent him from using the machine. It was merely a ploy from an idiot to delay the inevitable. Victor rationalised that he was much smarter than the boy, and Ferb was only feigning his expertise. After all, how could a child really understand time travel – they accepted it as an everyday occurrence, but that hardly displayed knowledge. People worked in factories with little awareness of how the machines worked – it was not far-fetched to believe that the child had simply completed Onassis' design.

That had to be it, even if it did not make complete sense in his head. Yes, it was true. The little boy was just a liar. Just a liar.

Victor wondered why he was shaking.

Isabella shifted slightly in her crouched position, receiving a growl from a worker in response. She lowered her head again, not wishing to look like a threat to the creatures.

"Are you okay?" Baljeet whispered, his head pressed against the ground. "I know Phineas…"

"Phineas is alive," Isabella replied unfalteringly. "Our main concern is getting out of this mess."

"Didn't ya hear?" Buford asked in amazement, the pain evident in his voice. "Dinner Bell's gone."

"We survived being buried alive. You honestly think a couple of these things took him out?"

"Alright," snapped Baljeet, still managing to keep a low register, "Even if he survived, how are we supposed to get out of here?"

Isabella smirked, watching a snail crawl its way across the stone floor. A short distance away, she heard something lumbering into the room.

"Just struggle and yell when I do."

* * *

The colours of the swamp bled into one another, but Phineas stumbled on ahead. Tripping over a tree root, he crashed into the fall of the castle, his face scraping against the stone. Blood trailed down the grey stone, almost blinding in the golden rays jutting through the trees. Phineas barely noticed the pain, dragging himself to his feet and pulling his way along the wall for support.

"You're probably too weak to see this through."

Phineas ignored the voice, gritting teeth as another stumble caused a rock to cut deeply into his leg. A fly landed on the bridge of his nose, awkwardly shuffling forward into his eye. It blinded him for a moment, but he struggled on in silence, eventually coming to a small, rotting door in the castle. He had not seen this entrance before.

"Of course, you are a murderer already. I have a daughter, you know. I wonder if you would have the stomach to tell her how I died."

Phineas kicked at the rotting wood, which gave way with a sickening mix between a crack and a squelch. He carried himself down into the darkness. The room had evidently been long abandoned. Something moved in the dark. He jumped as his leg brushed against something.

The corpse of a young woman fell across his path, deep into its state of decay. The browning skull grinned up through the grey remnants of flesh, eye sockets long since empty. Phineas yelled in alarm, and stumbled back, only to feel another corpse behind him, which drooped over his shoulders. He flinched in terror and thrashed wildly, the other body shaken wildly from him.

As the two corpses landed beside each other, Phineas slowly realised that they were the same woman. His eyes slowly became adjusted to the dark, and he looked around himself in horror.

Huge water tanks were arranged in rows, each containing a dull green liquid. And each containing the same woman, over and over, in various states of decomposition. A dusty old notebook lay on the floor beside one of the corpses, angry scribbling visible.

_Can't let Victor find this. Failure, again! May need to abandon project altogether…_

Phineas knelt down beside the corpse that had originally frightened him. He gently turned the head to the side, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming over him. He held them back and stood up, stepping over the corpse.

It did not matter who she was – he had to complete the cycle. It was a loop, he had realised in the swamp. Perhaps this time he was the monster, but events were moving nonetheless.

* * *

The two workers glanced at one another in confusion. The old man within the room was coughing violently, but they were under orders not to let him out under any circumstances. Ferbgor was dangerous after all.

"Help…" came the weak cry.

"Look, 'e is one of the bosses. Even if they are 'aving some sort of spat, we still 'ave to listen to both, right?"

"I don't know, it's mating season – if it's not related to females, I have no idea what's going on…"

"Really? I think I was neutered back when I was lesser, so I can't tell these things."

"HELP!"

"Look, 'e really is in trouble. Might be a stroke or something."

"Fine," sighed the other worker.

They both rushed into the bedroom, to be promptly grabbed and smashed against one another from behind. As their heads clashed together and they sank to floor unconscious, Ferbgor grunted in annoyance.

"I'm actually hurt," he said. "First off, I'm not _that _old, and two, surely Victor knows me well enough to put more guards on the door…"

He quickly searched the two guards, taking the basic issue knives he found on both of them. The workers tended not to use the weapons they were given anyway. Ferbgor nodded in satisfaction and headed off down the corridor. He had to stop everything before more people were hurt.

* * *

The time machine slowly and comfortably hummed into life, lighting the landing pad with its familiar glow. Ferb had tried to alter the date set, but Victor had seen through it, and had calmly reset it to the desired time. Ferb merely stood by as Victor approached the machine, running his hand along its yellow hull.

"At last… it's about time," he said, and chuckled at his joke, even though he found no humour in it whatsoever.

Giga-Perry lumbered into the room, sniffing excitedly. Victor paid the animal no attention as it approached the children in the corner. He looked up in annoyance as the children began screaming and writhing. The guards felt the spreading distress and attempted to make themselves larger to frighten off the nosy animal.

The giant platypus just kept attempting to move towards the children, the huge beak opening and closing, the head ducking and nodding. Isabella smirked again as Buford and Baljeet continued their charade, allowing the animal to see the snail in her hand. Giga-Perry lurched forward, and the guard were pushed aside. What remained of hackles were raised as they were shoved out of the way, and instinctively, the workers leapt on Giga-Perry, sinking teeth and claws into the animal.

To say that Giga-Perry reacted violently would be a gross understatement.

Phineastein grabbed his head in frustration.

"What the hell is it now?" he snapped, and paled considerably.

The giant platypus thrashed wildly, snapping and tearing at the workers as more and more approached. The supposedly captive children edged their way along the wall, out of range of the chaos. One of the workers was thrown across the room, crashing at the base of the time machine. Phineastein stared numbly, shocked, until the sound of a gun being cocked made him turn.

Ferb stood pointing the strange handgun at Victor, who raised his hands slowly.

"Now, let's think about this, Ferb. If I die, those workers will be a tad pissed. Under the circumstances, I've been shockingly nice…"

"Shut up," said Ferb, somehow audible over the sounds of fighting.

Isabella, Baljeet and Buford sprinted up the landing pad, dodging the wild, thrashing mass that was the fighting animals. Victor glanced at them, losing all hope. There was no possible way he could get out of this, unless some sort of unforeseen rescue occurred.

"Where is Ph…" Ferb began, before stopping in shock.

"Rains?" Isabella said in disbelief.

It was not Rains standing in the doorway, but the resemblance was there. Phineas was covered in mud, most of it caking on his clothes and face, mixed with red patches of blood. Blue eyes glared forward, no longer holding any sort of care, only simple pain.

"You're dead," Phineastein said. "You're dead, I…"

"_No mercy, Phineas."_

Suddenly, he seized his opportunity, hitting Ferb across the face and grabbing him and the gun. He forced Ferb around and pointed the gun at the temple.

"Get away from me! GUARDS! Kill everyone in this room!"

The groaning workers that were not engaged with the writhing platypus slowly stood up and charged forward, snarling incomprehensibly. Isabella swore as she was tackled from the landing platform, hearing Baljeet and Buford similarly occupied. She hit at her attacker's face several times, holding the teeth away from her face. As she dodged and struggled in the creature's grasp, she saw Phineas walk unflinchingly towards the landing platform.

"_I am__ order incarnate!"_

Victor was shaking more and more as Phineas continued forward, ignoring the workers that were beginning to surround him. Almost casually he reached down and picked up Caligula's dagger. The workers took a step back, unsure of how to proceed.

"KILL HIM!" Victor screamed, doing his best to hold Ferb still in his grasp. With a leg shooting with pain, he kicked the lever to activate the time machine.

"_You know what to do Phineas."_

The whooshing sound seemed to launch the workers into action. The first leapt forward with a yell, but Phineas merely growled and plunged the dagger into the creature's open mouth. The other workers flinched, but jumped on the boy as one, only to be slashed and stabbed at wildly. Even in their frenzy, the workers were terrified. The surviving ones wriggled their way out of the struggle as Phineas rose, anger cracking through the mud.

He ran up the stairs to the landing pad.

Phineastein was beginning to think the time machine took too long to warm up. It must have been due to its recent destruction.

"I'll shoot!" he yelled, digging the pistol harder into Ferb's head.

"Go ahead," muttered Ferb.

Phineas just advanced silently, the bloody dagger held in his tiny hand. Victor panicked, and aimed the gun at his attacker.

"Stay away!" Victor screamed, as the time machine seemed to start in earnest, beginning to fade in and out.

Victor pulled the trigger.

_Click._

"Ah. Shit."

Phineas charged suddenly, and Victor through Ferb roughly to the side, moving as quickly as he could towards the time machine. He dived into the machine as it began to move. This was it, the moment his life had been heading towards ever since that day. He was almost done.

Phineas landed on the machine, eyes rolling madly in their sockets.

"PHINEAS!" Ferb yelled as the time machine disappeared from reality, taking both his brother and Victor with it.

Isabella saw the time machine disappear as she held off the worker. Anger flooded her system, and she suddenly grabbed at the worker's head. The creature looked around in wild confusion before Isabella snarled and buried her thumbs in the softest place she could find.

Behind her a sickening crack was heard as Buford threw his limp attacker away from himself, and charged towards Baljeet, who was having a lot more trouble. With simian rage, Buford pulled Baljeet's attacker off the Indian boy and slammed the creature against the wall. The noise rang out through the castle.

Giga-Perry still thrashed wildly, the workers clinging onto his fur, tearing just out of reach, He turned his head as far as it would go and caught one of the creatures in his beak, throwing it away, but the rest merely intensified their attack.

A rifle shot sounded, bringing an end to the struggling as everyone looked up. Ferbgor stood in the doorway lowering the smoking gun. He realised that he could have stopped the violence sooner if he had not had to find a gun.

"Enough of this madness," said the man sternly. "Where is Victor?"

Ferb slowly pointed to the empty landing pad.

* * *

The time machine hurtled through the vortex and Victor struggled to keep Phineas from him. He held up his weakening arms as the Phineas forced the dagger down, eyes flashing with the reflection of the time stream.

"Stop!" Victor yelled, grabbing the blade with his bare hands. "For God's sake, do you even understand why I did this? I have to…"

Phineas pushed the blade through with sudden strength, leaving deep cuts on Victor's palms. With the little strength he had left, Victor forced the blade back a little, keeping it hovering above his chest.

"You want to change the past," growled Phineas. "You think everything will end happily-ever-after. This whole trip has been nothing but a long line of traumas I've had to endure and it's ALL YOUR FAULT! I had the perfect life back home, but the past summer, everything's been going to hell!"

"We went through the same thing…" Victor croaked.

"SHUT UP!" Phineas screamed, and finally plunged the dagger down.

The alley was covered in snow, gently settling among the cobbles of Gimmelschtump. Phineas fell onto the cold ground, suddenly aware of himself. He looked around for Ironside, but could not see the drill sergeant. It slowly dawned on him that he had been alone the whole time.

Horror washed over him as he remembered what he had done.

"Victor!" Phineas cried, pulling himself up to the time machine.

Victor spluttered, blood running from his mouth to join the pool around his chest. The scientist looked at the boy dully.

"I can't feel my legs, Phineas…"

Phineas expected tears, but nothing came. He made a choking sound and reached towards Victor, who slapped the hand away.

"Have to…" Victor stopped, staring at the dagger in his chest. Realisation hit him. "Ha ha… it was a coincidence after all… the old man had similar wounds, but not the same as the children…"

He slowly grasped the dagger and pulled it from his chest, red splattering the pure snow. The agony was somewhat dulled by the morphine, but he knew what was happening. He struggled to stand up, carefully avoiding slipping in the snow.

"Victor, I'm so sorry…" Phineas choked, the tears finally welling up.

Two sets of blue eyes met each other. Victor coughed again, while keeping his gaze on Phineas.

"Don't hang on to the past, Phineas… you can see where that leads you… This was predestined. Everything I did… always was a failure… tell your brother he was right. It is a loop."

With that, Victor Phineastein stumbled out of the alley and into the street, clutching his chest as he stumbled on the pavement. He knew exactly what was going to happen, because he had been there before. Phineas stood numbly in the alleyway, and could only watch as events unfolded.

She came around the corner on cue, just as he collapsed against the wall of the shop.

"Help…" he whispered.

Elizabeth immediately ran to the old man's aid, holding him in her arms.

"Victor!" she shouted to a red-head hovering nearby. "Get help!"

Phineastein watched as his younger self ran up the path, for help that would be too late. Elizabeth looked at his wound, trying in vain to stem the blood.

"You need to stay awake sir! Can you tell me your name? Anything? Sir?"

She was terrified, he could see that, but she was remarkably sensible. Her stomach was pressing against his side as she tried to sit him up. She was pregnant with his child. His vision was blurring, and so he focused on the last thing he could see.

"Sir, please! Stay with me…"

The last thing that passed through Victor Phineastein's head as he stared into her dark blue eyes was that despite the blood, the pain and the suffering over the decades, it had all been worth it to see her one last time.

"Home…"

* * *

**Thanks for reading! And it is with that we say goodbye to the only really sympathetic villain in this series. I was always going to have him killed by Phineas actually, and the old man was mentioned way back. I think Phineas' journey throughout has been a pretty brutal deconstruction of heroes in general. So, I hear you ask, when will this end? I'm thinking two chapters - first the end of the group's journey, and second a sort of What Happened To The Mice chapter, which will go through the various times and show the different characters. Thank you for sticking this far.**


	16. Komm, susser Tod

**Hello, penultimate chapter here! Although, this is the last real chapter, the final being little more than tying up loose ends. I found this quite difficult to write actually. Still, enjoy!**

* * *

The workers scurried about the castle, repairing the damage caused by the fighting and clearing up their own blood. Most of them sat in corners, chewing at examining their wounds, whining and grunting in annoyance. Although Ferbgor held no love for them, most of them seemed immensely pitiable. He grimaced as something crunched underneath his foot.

"Nearest?"

A worker appeared behind him instantly.

"Yes sir?"

"I want you to contact Doctor Moreau. We'll need his help fixing this. If possible, see if a message can be sent to Tesla."

"Aye, sir."

Ferbgor waited until the creature had scuttled away before he sat down on the landing pad steps, his head held in his hands. He sighed unintentionally, his concern for Victor and Phineas growing by the minute. He acknowledged Ferb's presence with a low grunt, and heard the girl sit down on his other side.

"They'll come back," Isabella said, her voice shaking slightly. "Phineas always comes back. He's always fine…"

"All this…" said Ferbgor, gazing numbly at the wreckage. "I could have stopped all of this years ago. If I hadn't been so loyal, none of this would have happened."

"Too late now," Ferb said, and Ferbgor had to concede that the boy was right.

Buford hopped over some of the damage to reach the others, being the only one who was enjoying the situation. Isabella noted that Buford enjoyed fighting a little too much. The boy grinned as he approached.

"Did ya see what Buford did?" he asked, miming swinging something in his hands. "Right off the wall! You shoulda heard the noise it made…"

The glares he received from all three on the steps silenced him fairly quickly. Quietly, he resolved to get his feat recognised at some point in time. Perhaps he could get one of those Fireside Girl patches for it. Oh, he remembered, and Phineas is missing. Which was bad, he guessed, but not as newsworthy as his fighting skills.

Baljeet struggled slightly as he led the decidedly bored Giga-Perry over to the others. The Indian boy was doing his best to ignore the various injuries to his face – he was sure there was a large scar developing, and his face stung badly. He realised with some annoyance that everyone else seemed to be relatively uninjured – there had been one or two workers killed by Giga-Perry, two incapacitated by Buford and one blinded by Isabella, but Baljeet seemed to be the only injured human. The giant platypus growled slightly as Baljeet tried to pull it away from the door. Some cuts were visible through the creature's fur, but most of them were turning white already.

"Come on, you oversized monotreme! Just… move!"

"Over here boy!" Isabella said, whistling.

Instantly the platypus bounded forward, pulling Baljeet with it and dragging him along the floor with yells of protest. Isabella patted the animal's head happily, as Baljeet crawled away from the creature, muttering under his breath.

Ferb looked on, eyes boring into the dark castle walls. Despite Isabella's assurances of Phineas' well-being, Ferb was not sure at all. After all, Isabella had not seen someone their age die – she had probably convinced herself that it could not happen, or at least not after all they had been through. Ferb knew that it was best not to hope.

The sudden whooshing noise rang through the air and something flashed on the landing pad. Everyone jumped up and ran towards the time machine as it materialised. Upon arrival, there was a moment of silence. Phineas stared at them from the front seat, tears visible on his mud-covered face.

Ferb and Isabella moved forward, ready to say something, before Phineas spoke with a hesitant, cracking voice.

"It's done," he said. "Phineastein's dead. It's over…"

He slumped to the side, tears coming faster. He suddenly realised how cold he was. Isabella was immediately at his side, and attempted to hug him, only to be pushed away. She stood blinking, deeply hurt, and feeling everyone looking at her.

"Dead?" Ferbgor repeated numbly.

He glanced from side to side, the realisation slowly seeping into his mind. With a small sound, Ferbgor gazed at the floor, unwilling to speak. Phineas just continued to cry with dead eyes while the others looked at one another in awkward confusion.

"Ferbgor, I think…" Baljeet began.

"Get out," said the old man, his words laced with venom. "Get out of here. Now."

"I'm sorry…"

"Now!"

The group flinched considerably but Phineas seemed to take no notice whatsoever. The tears had come to halt, and the redhead looked at his feet blankly, completely and unnervingly silent. Isabella ignored Ferbgor and attempted to approach Phineas once again. For her troubles, she received eye contact with the boy, and immediately took a step back.

Buford moved forwards, as if to confront Ferbgor, but Ferb held up a hand.

"We'll go. No need for more violence. Damage is done."

Ferbgor sighed, running a hand through Giga-Perry's fur, nodding in agreement.

"I'm so sorry," he said slowly. "For everything, and I know you will be unable to forgive us."

He turned to Phineas, his voice much angrier.

"And I shall be unable to forgive you."

With that, Ferbgor walked out of the room, never looking back. Slowly, the workers filed out behind him, with one wearing bandages around his eyes aiming a rude sign in Isabella's general direction. Giga-Perry rubbed his huge head against the time machine with a purring noise and walked away sadly. Isabella patted him once on the beak and watched him go before turning back to Phineas.

"Phineas, listen to me. Do you know where you are? What's going on?"

Ferb snapped his fingers loudly, the noise echoing around the room. The group turned around to face him.

"We'll sort this out at home. For now, we concentrate on getting there."

Isabella resigned herself to following Ferb's orders, but she made sure to sit beside Phineas as some sort of support. As she brushed against him, she felt him bristle, as if in anger. Ferb, Buford and Baljeet sat down, with Ferb suddenly remembering to take Silent Bob with them. The narcoleptic mouse did not seem particularly bothered by events in the slightest.

Ferb adjusted the dates and figures and pulled the lever.

* * *

"Well, Candace, did you learn a valuable lesson?" Adyson asked, the mockery in her voice reaching never before seen levels.

Candace could only grumble in response as Gretchen pulled the wheelchair out of the ditch via a hastily constructed pulley system. The bespectacled girl would have preferred to remain in the Fireside Girl clubhouse, but Adyson's insistence on leaving led to the odd couple encountering Candace. Apparently the Flynn girl had been in such a hurry to alert her mother to whatever her brothers were doing that she had failed to turn at the bottom of a very steep hill.

"See?" Adyson said. "Whenever we leave the clubhouse it leads to wacky adventures and misunderstandings!"

"This is a misunderstanding," Candace groaned. "I'm usually a very responsible driver…"

"You might call them wacky," said Gretchen, as the wheelchair landed on solid ground. "I call them annoying. We should be repairing the security system."

"I should be busting my brothers."

"Let's not get too worked up over what we should be doing," Adyson chuckled.

The vein in Gretchen's temple pulsed dangerously. The small Fireside Girl was usually blessed with infinite patience, but she felt that even Mahatma Gandhi would have had a hard time dealing with Adyson Sweetwater. She took hold of Candace's wheelchair and wheeled the older girl back onto the sidewalk.

"I managed to scream at Mom as I hurtled past," Candace explained. "So just take me home now."

"I thought you could wheel yourself?" Adyson asked in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up."

The three girls began their journey back up the hill, Candace's psychotic growling serving as an entertaining soundtrack. Adyson opened a newspaper, somehow managing to dodge obstacles in her path as they walked.

"Danville's only getting worse," she said, voice unusually serious.

"Meaning?" Gretechen said.

"There's a goddamn serial killer on the loose, according to this! Two women in less than a month. At least it's a narrow search - he's left-handed."

Candace snatched the paper and threw it away, apparently in the hope that it would shut Adyson up.

"Hey, Candace," Adyson began cheerfully. "You ever see the head explosion scene in Scanners? I think you're dangerously close to that."

"Ever see a Fireside Girl thrown directly into the sun?" Candace replied. "Because you're dangerously close to that."

"I'm shaking in my boots, Professor X."

"It wouldn't be too much to hope for civility?" Gretchen asked. "Stop insulting one another!"

"But that's how we communicate!" The two girls exclaimed simultaneously.

Gretchen purposefully ran the wheelchair over Adyson's foot while jerking the chair upwards at the same time, causing both of the girls to yell in annoyance. Gretchen was pleased to discover that the rest of the journey was completed in silence, angry silence though it was.

Turning down the driveway, the girls looked around in confusion as a strange noise emanated from the backyard – a rhythmic whooshing sound that scared birds from trees. Candace's face contorted in anger.

"They task me. They task me, and I shall bust them!"

The trio burst through the gate in time to see the time machine materialise, the grass blowing wildly underneath it before being crushed under the sudden weight. Candace propelled herself forward angrily, ready to pull Phineas out of the machine and yell at him.

As soon as she saw them however, she stopped in her tracks.

The children in the time machine looked up at her with barely any acknowledgement. Baljeet, Buford and Isabella wore scuffed and dirtied clothing, cuts visible across their bare arms and faces. Ferb sat in his raggedy coat, which seemed stained with dried blood, and held tightly onto a pair of crutches. The worst was Phineas though. His eyes were completely dull – to Candace, he looked like an imitation of a human, a flawed model with no life or soul. He was covered in mud from head to toe, aside from red raw patches on his face caused by crying.

"Phineas?" Candace said slowly, something catching in her voice.

"Candace…" Ferb said quietly, raising his hands slightly. "There's… been some trouble."

The wheelchair clattered against the hull as Candace ignored Ferb and pulled herself over the rim of the machine to try to speak to Phineas. In her peripheral vision, she saw the other children slink out of the machine, unable to explain the situation. Phineas remained in his seat.

"Phineas, look at me!" Candace cried, a new type of panic running through her system.

Phineas did. Candace ignored his staring eyes and hugged her brother tightly, as if trying to restore him to his usual self.

"Phineas, what happened? You have to tell me… you can't… Phineas!"

In Phineas' view, the drill sergeant towered over him, smoking yet another cigar. Phineas could smell it.

"_So, in the end, you really did break," _laughed Ironside. _"Look at you. The symbol of freedom, creativity and imagination itself, reduced to… this. There is no return from this. It took a long time, Phineas Flynn, but I succeeded."_

"I did what I had to," Phineas mumbled. "I saved them… it was worth it, for them. My friends."

"_They were never worth it. Your own selflessness cost you everything. Well, less selflessness and more a pathetic need to feel appreciated. You know what, today is going to be a great day, Phineas Flynn. And do you want to know the best part? In the end, none of it mattered at all. It was always going to be this way…"_

"I can't… Fine," Phineas said suddenly. "If that's how it's going to be, I accept it. If I can do that much for others, they'll do the same for me. Get the hell out of my head."

Ironside lurched forwards, beginning to shout his defiant fury. When he spoke, however, it was not his voice.

"_Phineas! Phineas please! Phi_neas just look at us! I lo…"

Blue eyes blinked open, and he was surrounded by his friends. Isabella had been roughly two seconds away from slapping him in the face before she noticed some sort of intelligence looking back at her. Candace was still grabbing him by the grubby remnants of his t-shirt. Buford, Baljeet and Ferb stood close by, and he could make out Gretchen and Adyson hovering nervously behind them.

"You… you were talking," said Isabella weakly. "You started screaming… Phineas, is that you? We've been through so much…"

Candace resumed her usual glare, but this time it was filled with almost motherly concern.

"Phineas, what happened? I need to know what's going on! Tell me."

"Tell me," Phineas repeated.

Isabella let out a sigh of relief, and Ferb visibly relaxed, an earnest yet nervous smile breaking across his features. Phineas looked over every face in the backyard, his previously rapidly-beating heart slowing down to normal levels. They all moved closer to him, and he laughed lightly. An unstable laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Yes, tell me," he repeated again. "Tell someone."

He stood up shakily, and glanced around again.

"Help," Phineas said. "I need help."

Candace rolled backwards before pivoting towards Gretchen and Adyson.

"I'll get you help. You two," she said urgently, tossing them her mobile phone. "I want you to call my mom, and everybody else's parents. I have no idea how the hell I am going to explain this to Mom… Ugh, hang in there Phineas."

She shot off urgently indoors, apparently to use the house phone to call the emergency services.

"How are _we_ going to explain this?" Baljeet asked, scratching at his scars. "Look at us!"

"We've only been gone like five minutes," Buford observed.

Ferb was ultimately more concerned with his brother's well-being, but the problem occurred to him. Simply saying 'time travel' was actually an option – they had never lied about their inventions before. But the actual presence of the machine might distract the arrivals from the real problem - namely, Phineas.

Crossing over to the time machine, he pulled Silent Bob's cage out and set it one the ground. Then, before anyone could ask what he was doing, he had set the original co-ordinates and pulled the lever before stepping back. Fifteen seconds ago, the time machine suddenly reappeared in the Danville Museum, looking considerably different than it had before.

Isabella sat Phineas down on the grass, still extremely unnerved. Ferb made to approach, but evidently decided that Isabella was the better one to try to comfort the boy.

"I want that therapist…" Phineas said, looking at her directly.

She blinked awkwardly for a moment, before embracing him.

"We've been here before," she whispered. "But you're getting better. And we want you to get better Phineas. You have no idea how much you mean to m- us."

Phineas shivered in her hug, and very much doubted her words. Deep down, he realised that there was no easy way to recovery. In fact, that recovery might never happen. But he was willing to try.

* * *

The boat touched gently against the sand, the tiny golden hills parted quietly as the transport cut through them. Ferbgor stood on the beach, watching the man approach.

"I wish we could have met under different circumstances, Ferbgor," Loki said, hopping out of the boat. Age did not seem to have affected him much. "You really were a worthy opponent."

Ferbgor nodded, but he was not listening to the scarred man. His gaze had turned to the woman struggling to her feet, leaning heavily on a cane. Faded red hair glinted in the sunset as Constance walked towards them.

The noise of the slap was audible across the island, and even on Moreau's. Ferbgor looked down at his boots in shame.

"You idiot," snapped Constance. "You stupid, idiotic old man."

Her fists balled in anger, and Ferbgor braced himself for another impact. Instead, he froze as Constance wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry Ferbgor. Tesla told us."

"Damage I've done," Loki said quietly, "I had to help out."

"The damage we've all done," Constance said, releasing the hug. "I told you I never wanted to see you again. I told Victor that. I never will see him again."

"All those years," Ferbgor spoke softly. "I didn't once try to stop him. Because… I thought it was his fault too. The way he treated her, he didn't notice until she was gone. I didn't do anything directly, and that makes me worse than him."

"Ferbgor…" Constance sighed. "You can't just wallow in the past… Come on, I'll make dinner. We can work out some funeral arrangements."

"Nothing to bury."

A strange emotion crossed Constance's face, and for a moment she looked as if she might cry. Ignoring the question, she turned and looked at the setting sun.

"Will you come back with us?" she asked. "Once everything's in order here?"

"No," said Ferbgor firmly. "There's no place for me there. Or anywhere."

"Of course there…" Constance spluttered. "Where could you go?"

There was a long silence on the beach, even the gentle crash of the waves seeming muted. Birds circled overhead, and the wind suddenly whistled through the trees in the swamp. Eventually Ferbgor joined Constance in looking at the sun.

"Tell them… tell them I said I was going to America."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Y'know, this is a much darker ending than SART, but I dunno, I think there is a stronger optimism in it, rather than the naive optimism of Auld Lang Syne. Poor Phineas though, he really got it rough throughout this story. If you've noticed, I like to write Adyson and Gretchen as the heroines of some sort of bizarre buddy movie that occaissionally intersects with the actual story. I really should write something about them. Did anyone spot what happened to an especially dangerous mouse? See you next time!**


	17. So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish

**Hello, it's been great, but here we are at the final chapter. If you could call this a chapter. It's basically small one-shots. Enjoy.**

* * *

When Claudius limped into the senate, no-one stood or even acknowledged him, despite his status as a member of the Imperial family. To be noticed, he had to approach the Emperor's vacant throne. Laughter met his ears, but he kept his emotions in check before turning to face the source.

"Why, if it isn't c-c-Claudius," sneered one of the senators, a man called Marcus. "Getting ideas? Perhaps hoping you'll be on that throne some day?"

The circular structure of the senate ensured that Claudius was surrounded by the mocking laughter of the men. He clenched his teeth and held back the usual stinging tears – he was used to it by now. He twitched badly, and nearly caught his feet on his toga, stumbling onto the throne. More cacophonous laughter.

"Whatever next? Some juggling?" Marcus laughed again, a short bark. It's like watching one of Tiberius' apes!"

The senators assumed their own importance – normally, they were untouchable, except by the Emperor. Claudius rose; face red with anger, aimed at his tormentors and himself.

"So tell us, ape man, if the Emperor has recovered, and glad we are that he has…"

"Very glad."

"Indeed, we were most worried."

"…then why did he send you to the senate in his place? Some sort of joke?"

Claudius was not a cruel man, but he felt a sadistic smirk cross his features as he finally spoke.

"He didn't."

There was murmurings and whispers audible among the men. Confused, Marcus leaned over the audience wall. His face was beginning to look outraged – he felt that Claudius' very presence mocked Rome.

"Then why are you here, invalid?"

"I came to warn you," said Claudius. "T-too late n-now."

The Emperor's distinct announcement rang out from the slaves' instruments as the Praetorian Guard entered the room, their leader looking very stressed. A strange noise met sounded from the steps outside. Many of the senators looked at one another in confusion before Caligula burst into the senate on a white horse, brandishing a dagger wildly.

Marcus was one of the first to clap, hoping that sycophancy would help calm the situation. Caligula flashed a grin as he dismounted the horse, at which point everybody noticed that the Emperor was completely naked. Incitatus looked somewhat mortified.

"Ah, Claudius, you're here!" The blonde man said cheerfully. "I hope you didn't ruin the surprise?"

"Surprise, Imperator?" Marcus asked nervously, averting his eyes from the Imperial nudity.

"Aheheh. Men of the senate. Boys of the senate. Snivelling little corpse rats of the senate, you are in the presence of a god." Caligula paused, and offered another trademark grin. "I am Jove, recently awoken in this mortal form. I only realised it after my coma."

"Are you quite sure?"

The murmurs became increasingly loud, with some clearly hostile comments and criticisms audible. Caligula's eyes bulged dangerously.

"Marcus?"

"Yes, Cal- I mean, Jove?"

"When I was sick, you offered your life for mine, did you not?"

Marcus nodded proudly, pleased that the Emperor had heard of his 'dedication' to the Empire. He had publicly prayed to the gods to spare Caligula at the price of his own life, aware of the praise people would heap upon him. Claudius looked away, knowing what was coming.

"I did Jove. We are overjoyed to see you once more."

"See, aheheh, the thing is… why are you still alive?"

Marcus' face paled considerably.

"S-sorry, j-j-Jove?" the senator gasped.

Claudius let out a small laugh, and inwardly cursed himself for being so cruel. He did not have to stoop to their level.

"Take him outside, put his toga over his head and chuck him in the Tiber," said Caligula, in a bored manner.

Marcus' screams and protests echoed off the senate walls as soldiers forcibly led him out of the room. His nails scraped against the marble floors and broke, the screaming becoming ever hoarser. However, Caligula was pleased to note that once Marcus was gone, the mutterings stopped and he had the senate's full attention. With a yawn, the Emperor flopped onto his throne.

"Can't have people making false promises."

"Sir," Claudius whispered, "Are you aware of your, um, n-nakedness?"

Black eyes rolled in their sockets.

"Uncle, I need not care for social etiquette anymore – I saved the universe, I'll have you know. Well, not yet. But I will. When the Phaeton comes."

The senators stood awaiting Caligula's attention, and eventually, he remembered why they were there. He took some parchment from _somewhere_ and unravelled it. The trail rolled out the senate and down through the streets, every inch of it with writing visible. The Emperor coughed before beginning to read.

"I've made a few changes to various laws," he said, and suddenly laughed. "I came to one important conclusion, my little sycophants, and it is this: Tiberius nearly ruined this place, he didn't know what to do with it – if you think the Empire's bad off now… just wait 'til I get through with it!"

* * *

"Well, McGuffin," Captain Stacy says with a hopeful grin that reminds me of a nervous owl, "It's great to see you again."

"Hey Cap. I'd get you a drink, but, well, they're mine and I don't like sharing. You can have… tap water. It's the only non-alcoholic thing in the house."

"What a surprise."

I'll admit, I kinda missed her too. After my marriage, the detective work slowly trickled down, and by some sort of coincidence, I saw the police less and less. My metaphors and similes aren't the best anymore, but I guess that comes with being a mother. Since when do moms provide good noir voiceovers?

"It's been a while, Stace. You get the Christmas cards though?"

"Yes. I knew it was from you because it was a six-page, rambling story about how of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into yours. There was also a distinct lack of 'Merry Christmas' or a signature."

"You know me, I like to stay classy. HEY, BETTY JO! STOP PICKIN' YER NOSE AND COME SAY HI TO AUNT STACY!"

Stacy takes a real shine to my kid – I can tell you, that killed me right there. Betty Jo has a habit of pulling people's hair – you should have seen the look on Stacy's face. I have another kid actually, Betty Jo's twin, but she only comes out once a year.

"So why'd ya come to visit?"

Stacy shift awkwardly in her seat like a seat-shifter, and takes something out of her jacket.

"Us being friends and all…" she mutters. "…past behind us…"

"Is this… YES!"

"You can have your gun license back."

Stacy is the greatest friend a borderline alcoholic and amateur detective could have. I think I nearly broke her back in the hug I gave her, and the tears of joy just kept on running, like Marilyn Monroe running from commitment.

Of course, two weeks later my license was revoked again after I accidentally shot Stacy in the foot, but it was the thought that counted.

* * *

The sun rose spectacularly through the Danville morning, the tall silver buildings splitting the rays across the landscape. Long beams of light stretched from the beloved little town, reaching up the previously foreboding dark hill that led to the Smile Away Reformatory School. A lone figure sat atop the oppressive grey wall that housed the impenetrable gate, and sighed slightly.

"It's a beautiful morning," Thomas said quietly, and then swore for saying that aloud. All of the other students thought he was weird enough without overhearing such a weak statement.

It was true however. The boy felt drawn to sunrise, and it was one of the few things he looked forward to. It was the summer solstice, as far as Thomas was aware, and there were at least two perfect hours to go before Ironside arrived at work. Thomas felt the growing heat on his hair, and mused that it would become fairer if the sunny weather continued.

The only noise was the occasional cry of a fox down below – or perhaps it was several foxes, he couldn't tell. He knew why they were yapping though – yesterday he had encountered one of the pups, and had been intending to keep it as a pet. He had soon deemed the notion of a pet fox to be stupid, however, and strangled it. The parent must have found the body.

"Hey boss! Whatcha thinking about?"

Thomas groaned as Bob came up the staircase, waving enthusiastically.

"Now I'm thinking about setting you on fire. Aheheh."

"But you already did that one," Bob pointed out. "And remember the time you smuggled a taser into the showers and electrocuted everyone including yourself? That sorta counted as fire too."

Thomas shook his head slightly. When he spoke, there was a distinct lack of venom in his voice.

"I think I'm going to die."

It took Bob a moment to recognise the fear in Thomas' words.

"Everyone dies, boss."

"Soon, I mean. When Ferb visited here, you remember that?"

"No."

"Of course you don't. What are you, stupid? Never mind. Anyway, I wasn't with him, but he looked older."

"Maybe he just aged bad. I once knew this…"

"Shut up you wank-stain, I'm talking." Thomas laughed slightly before continuing. "I wouldn't put time travel past Ferb. He is a genius after all. Why wasn't I there? Why wasn't he dead?"

Bob started to back away nervously.

"I just came to tell you that Ironside's daughter was looking for you yesterday."

"…hate that scope," Thomas finally replied, but when he looked around, Bob was gone.

Sighing, the English boy stood up, glaring down at the town where Ferb was planning some sort of invention. _I could avoid death, _Thomas thought. _If I left him alone, perhaps? Or was it my surrender that led to me not being there? I could… No. No, it's far too late for that._

Just then the Sun-Beater 3000 took off and launched over Smile Away, exhaust trailing across the sky as it embarked upon its journey around the world. Thomas stood completely still, rage rooting him to the spot. He struggled to find the right words, but only growls came out. Eventually, he spat out:

"I hate you," said Patient 41. "I hate you Ferb."

* * *

The carriage stood by the Cesena house, men slowly loading books and other assorted pieces of luggage. Leonardo watched them load the transport with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Machiavelli was leaving for Florence, which would leave the inventor with no-one to talk to, and alone in the employment of an over-acting idiot.

"I suppose there's nothing I can say to convince you?" Leonardo sighed.

"Business in Firenze. You know politics," Machiavelli grunted, searching for his socks that he knew Leonardo was probably wearing out of laziness.

Leonardo nodded in response.

"I know. It's just… I thought we'd be making inventions and that for longer. I'll miss it."

Machiavelli looked up, expression uncharacteristically concerned.

"Well, Savonarola's dead, isn't he? They're not imprisoning homosexuals anymore, so you could come back if you wanted."

"I'd like to," Leonardo admitted. "But I have a contract to fulfil. Cesare would get rather angry if I just left. It's been fun though, right?"

"If by fun you mean running after and paying for children that dropped out the sky, then yes, it was fun."

"They were nice kids," frowned the genius.

"Sorry, I'm just a little stressed, okay? …Dear God, we sound like a married couple."

"I assure you, it's completely platonic. If other people get that, I don't…"

"LEONARDO! HAVE YOU FINISHED SAYING TATTY-BYE TO YOUR LITTLE GAY FRIEND?"

"Ugh," Machiavelli groaned. "This is not good for my reputation. I've been gone for nearly two years, and I've been living with you. I'm going to be a laughing stock."

"Well, nice to know that you can keep the populace entertained," grinned Leonardo, not in the least bit sympathetic.

"I'm not even interested in relationships, but will they listen? Anyway, I'd better go. Send me my socks if you find them."

"You're not as much of a bastard as you let on, Niccolò. Farewell."

"You're not too bad. For an effeminate man-child… I'll miss you. And it's Machiavelli in public, okay?"

Leonardo merely snickered as Machiavelli departed and entered the carriage. The inventor supposed that he should probably start working.

* * *

The rain had come down in a flash, as if to rub salt in the wound. She was tired, cold, and now soaking wet in skimpy clothing. She had been locked out again, and none of the other girls particularly cared. If she could find a homeless shelter, she'd be safe, but the thought was extremely unpleasant. She felt warm water on her bruised face mix with the rain and realized that she was crying.

"Great," she muttered. "As if I didn't already look a state."

She hated Danville – the town just emanated happiness to everyone, at least on the surface. To people like her, stuck in the seedy underbelly, it was a hellhole. The rain just kept coming.

Suddenly, the rain stopped falling on her head, the splashing replaced by a hollow drumming. Looking up, she realized there was an umbrella over her head.

She had not heard him approach.

"I thought you might need some shelter," he said. His voice was soothing.

"Thanks," she said, wiping her face before turning to face him. He had a nasty looking scar running down his face that she presumed was from a bar fight, but other than that, he appeared warm and friendly. "That accent – are you British?"

He tipped his hat slightly in confirmation.

"Can I take you anywhere in particular?"

What the hell, she thought. Any port in a storm.

"You're very kind. Can I just… walk with you for a while? It'd be nice to have someone to talk to."

"Certainly my dear. Stay under the brolley. You'll catch a cold. Take my jacket as well."

"Thank you sir," she said. "You have no idea how much this means to me. A real English gentleman. Straight out of the history books. Thank you."

"That's me," he grinned. "Straight out of the history books. Alive and kicking."

* * *

"I call it the Aristocrats!" Adyson concluded, oblivious to the sickly color Gretchen had acquired throughout the whole 'joke'.

Gretchen leaned against the clubhouse wall, breathing heavily.

"Was that… supposed… to be funny?

Adyson shrugged and returned to munching on her pizza while Gretchen recovered. Adyson was convinced that the bespectacled girl was completely humorless. She spent too much time on computers, in Adyson's opinion.

"By the way, I need you for a dramatic reading of some crappy fanfic I found," Adyson called. "It takes a cheery cartoon and makes it way too dark, so I'm gonna mock it mercilessly."

"Fine," Gretchen groaned. "Just don't… Ferb! How did you get past the security system?"

The green-haired boy smiled cryptically and turned to Adyson, raising a small cage in his arms. Silent Bob squeaked in annoyance before returning to his usual dormant state. The girl took the cage from her friend gently, careful not to disturb the mouse.

"Like we promised?" asked Adyson, passing a sketch to the English boy.

Ferb examined the sketch.

"I think you watch too many Japanese cartoons," he observed. "But if you take care of Silent Bob, I'll see what I can do."

"How's Phineas?" Gretchen asked, returning to her swivel-chair. "The Chief has been gone a long time now. She's really worried."

_So am I_, thought Ferb sadly.

"He'll get there," he said eventually.

"What are you doing without him during the day?"

Ferb shrugged. Honestly, he did not really know. He tended to wander aimlessly and just find some company. He had to sneak out of his own house – Linda was being understandably over-protective, especially considering the fact that none of the children had offered the same explanation for their state. The other day in his wanderings he had seen something that he was struggling to remember.

"_Mornin' Ferb! How's yer side, ya English twat?"_

He shook his head. Perhaps he had been spending too much time with those crystals. That could not have happened. He cast it out of his mind.

"What are you two doing?"

"Nothing really. Waiting for our spin-off," Adyson said, and looked back at the cage. "Silent Bob… I had a cousin… years ago, I think. Used to call… Never mind. Pizza?"

Ferb smiled happily as he obliged. He could not say that his situation was ideal – after all, his whole routine had been ruined, and his best friend was becoming distant at best. But he was cautiously optimistic.

* * *

"Happy Hanukkah!" Victor exclaimed, standing on her doorstep. "You do give gifts for Hanukkah, right? I brought presents anyway."

Elizabeth hugged him warmly as the whole group filed in, the most awkward family she had ever seen. Raskolnikov was curled up at her fireplace in an instant, Ferbgor and Constance sat down in armchairs, already bickering slightly, and the giant platypus squeezed past, making the usual loud sniffing noises.

"Eh, come on in then," Elizabeth said good-humoredly.

"Don't mind them," said Phineastein. "It is rather cold outside. How are you?"

"Victor, it's only been two days. I'm just the same as last time."

"So still fawning over Ferbgor, then?" he said, and then at the look on her face, added, "Elizabeth, I'm joking."

She blushed at the close contact and thanked any deity that would listen that her father was not home.

"Just one thing, Victor."

"Yes?"

"Hanukkah's not for another three weeks."

"Well you know me. Any excuse," Phineastein said, and kissed her.

**The End**

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I mean it. I suppose there are some titles for these short windows through time - Caligula's one is called 'Duck Soup', McGuffin's is called 'Ain't That A Kick In The Head?', Thomas - 'Comfortably Numb', Leonardo - 'Skiving', Leather Apron - 'Karma Houdini', Adyson, Gretchen and Ferb - 'Always Look On The Bright Side', and for the final one, just 'Home'. But we're finally done. I hope you enjoyed everything. Just before I go, let me fill you in on the fates of some of our characters (sort of):**

**Caligula currently survives in the back of Winston Smith's head. Claudius was last seen in The King's Speech.**

**Candace McGuffin got a bit part in Casablanca. She was fired for giving Humphrey Bogart a drinking problem.**

**Sawney Bean moved to America, where he currently hosts The Late Late Show, and only occasionally eats members of the audience.**

**Leonardo would like to remind you that Missed Hug = Restarted Game. Machiavelli dislikes you. Yes, you.**

**Aleister Crowley finds you attractive.**

**Goodbye! Adieu, auf wiedersehen, farewell.**


End file.
